


Lawyers, Swords and Secrets

by Tamoline



Series: Lawyers, Swords and Secrets [1]
Category: Chronicles of Amber - Roger Zelazny, Good Wife (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-23 10:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamoline/pseuds/Tamoline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alicia Cavanaugh is given a job offer she can't refuse after her divorce, putting her lawyering skills to work in a very different setting. And, if you don't count the somewhat antiquated society, the lack of electricity and the completely different universe she's found herself in, it's all going fairly well.</p><p>Up until the point where she encounters Princess Kalinda of Amber, that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completely different continuity to Flames of a Different Hue. Really. Do not carry assumptions about characters over.

There's a knock at the door. 

I look up, just as Mathilde enters.

"Visitor for you, ma'am," she says.

I blink, the unreality of the situation blurring things a little out of focus once more. The hand made fittings and furniture, the curtsey Mathilde gives me, not to mention the complete lack of anything that runs on electricity, it still sometimes feels like I'm taking part in a period drama rather than working for a lawyer's practice.

I blink again, and the room resolves back into hard edged reality.

"Show them in, if you wouldn't mind," I tell Mathilde.

She bobs once again, then disappears out of the door.

A visitor? For me?

That's unusual, to say the least. Normally, everyone who came here just wanted to talk to Jonas Stern. *Lord* Jonas Stern, I correct myself mentally. Titles are important here, and though Jonas wouldn't have me flogged for not using it, by the laws of the land we now resided in, he *could*. More importantly, it would offend the sensibilities of most of our more status conscious clients.

Which leads me back to my visitor.

Who would ask to be led to one of the most junior lawyers at our firm?

The answer, when it comes, doesn't provide any immediate clarity. She's slender, dark haired and dressed in well made, well fitted leathers with a sword at her side. As she enters the room, she has an easy grace, moving as if the sword is a part of her, and seemingly takes in the room with a few glances before focussing on me with dark eyes.

For all that swords are common here in Amber, women walking around with them is rare. The women I've come in contact with have all been the more stay at home type.

For all that I'm fairly sure we've never met, she seems familiar. It's something about the eyes, something about the poise, something that I can't quite put my finger on.

And for all that she's come in here wearing a lethally practical looking blade, the look in her eyes conveys a different kind of threat entirely, something more akin to flirtation than intimidation.

All in all, it's almost enough to put a woman off her stride.

Being a survivor of a good old fashioned US style media circus has its benefits, I can't help thinking as I rise to my feet and give her the curtsey I've been practising ever since my arrival.

It takes a little more than this to throw me.

"Good morning," I say to the woman. "I'm Alicia Cavanaugh. How can I help you?"

The woman looks at me for a second, with a half smile playing over her lips, before she speaks, "Morning. I'm Princess Kalinda of Amber. And I'd like to hire you to defend me against charges of treason."

Oh, I think, a little numbly. That might just do it.

 

It doesn't take me long to recover my composure. Though that's somewhat aided by a jolt of anger caused by the curve of Kalinda's lips, seemingly at my discombobulation.

Not that I let that show. The royal family are famously... temperamental. And by temperamental, I mean borderline homicidal according to the stories. Though Lockhart, Gardener and Stern are under the protection of Prince Corwin, I find myself under no hurry to test the limits of said aegis.

"I'm just a junior associate here," I say, a little cautiously. "For this kind of case, you'd be better off speaking to Lord Stern," I continue, doing my level best to kick this upstairs.

"I'm talking to who I want to," she counters, looking far too relaxed for someone supposedly accused of treason. "Or are you refusing to handle my case?"

She's being awfully combative for a prospective client, I can't help noting. Something feels wrong about this, but, in the end, there's only one answer I can give her.

"Of course not. Please, sit down so we can discuss the details."

Our firm is new enough here, and in precarious enough position that I've been told, repeatedly, that we absolutely cannot afford to offend any of the major nobles. 

And one of the royal family?

Well, let's say that I'd prefer not to test the part of my contract which entitles me to transport back to Earth in the case of dismissal unless I *really* have to.

Kalinda twists her lips, and manages, somehow, to sit down gracefully despite the scabbard at her side.

"Isn't there some kind of contract that we have to sign?" she asks.

I go over to a filing cabinet, one of the few modern fixtures in my office, and retrieve a copy of our standard preliminary contract. Using a biro - and thank god they work here; I did not fancy my chances of using a quill and ink - I fill it in with the appropriate details and initial the relevant parts. I then hand it over to the princess, telling her to sign "Here, here and here."

She takes her time, flicking through the different pages and reading through every clause as if she was on patrol, looking for an ambush. Eventually, she takes a quill I reserve for local clients and signs her name in immaculate cursive.

"So. What would you like to know?" she asks after placing the contract back on my desk.

"You said that you were accused of treason," I prompt her.

"Yes," she says, seemingly unaffected, though I would have thought that treason would give even a princess pause.

"Can you give me some more details of the charges?"

"There was a Chaosian spy, stranded here after the war ended. She kept in deep cover until the Chaosians set up an embassy in Amber." 

Her face is expressionless as she says this. From what I'd learned since I'd been here, though, the move to allow the enemy a presence in Amber was less than popular among some quarters, but the Queen had been adamant on the point. 

"The authorities in Amber didn't find her, didn't have any idea that she existed let alone that she'd started sending reports again, until Prince Julian of Arden handed her over."

Just for a second, she looks almost pleased about that, before her face returns to its former impassive state.

I'd been there when the spy had been handed over. The streets had been tense, angry. There'd been some talk that there might be riots around the Chaos embassy. 

And paranoia had been high amongst the locals - when dealing with an enemy that could change their appearance, was anyone trustworthy?

Luckily, it had been calmed down by heavy guard presence on the streets as well as the closure of the Chaos embassy. Much to the Queen's displeasure, it had been rumoured.

Apparently, though, not to Kalinda's.

"Why are you being charged?" I ask cautiously.

"Julian's too powerful to call to account," she says, shrugging. "Whereas we're close and I'm..." she hesitates for a moment, "Not that important."

I sat back for a moment, studying her. She looked young - mid twenties at the absolute latest - but I knew that looks for one of the royal family were deceptive. Our patron, Prince Corwin, looks like he's in his mid thirties and is apparently upwards of seven hundred years old.

Even normal humans don't appear to be immune to this effect. Jonas Stern now looks over a decade younger than he did when he first arrived, and I'm fairly sure that I've lost a few wrinkles myself.

She doesn't *feel* old, though, if that's any measure of her actual age.

I'm fairly sure she's holding things back - there's a sense of pressure like her apparent calm is just a dam - the question is: how much can I afford to push.

"Anything you tell me in this room is confidential," I tell her as nonintrusively as I can, "But if I'm going to fight this case, I need to know everything I can, so we don't get any nasty surprises."

She studies me for a moment, then nods "Very well. But if knowledge of this spreads, I'll know who to ask questions of." She doesn't say it aggressively, just with kind of utter assurance that is far more chilling in its own way.

It doesn't bluster or make threats.

It simply states that she *will* kill me if I cross her. 

No ifs, buts, maybes. 

No trials or last minute pleas.

This is a woman who has killed before and will kill again.

And, for the first time since I arrived here, I begin to question if I had any idea what I was letting myself in for.

I swallow, and nod.

She shrugs. "Yes, I found the spy, when no one else did. And, yes, I gave her to Julian, to be dealt with as he saw fit. Julian said that he'd cut the knowledge of how she'd been captured from her mind, but there are always traces left behind. I guess it's possible that Corwin is either competent enough to piece them together, or managed to persuade one of the family who is to do it for him."

Wait, hang on a second.

"Corwin?" I ask, hoping I've heard wrong.

And for the first time since she entered the room, Kalinda gives me what looks like a real smile. "Yes. He's the one bringing charges against me, in his role as commander of the city guard." She pauses for a moment. "Why, didn't you know?"

Corwin, the patron of the firm.

Corwin, the person who brought us here from Earth, promising anyone who transferred wealth beyond the dreams of Avarice.

Corwin, the person who was the best chance of getting my kids back.

God.

I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry. I'm going to have to discuss taking on your case with the firm's partners. There may be a conflict of interest."

Kalinda nods. "I understand," she says, and, for a moment, I think I may have actually managed to escape from what increasingly feels like a trap. 

"But we do have a contract, don't we?" she adds.

No such luck.

Fantastic.


	2. Chapter 2

Within seconds of Princess Kalinda leaving my office, Mathilde has entered it, looking as deferential as ever.

"Lord Stern has requested your presence in his chambers at your earliest convenience."

Apparently news of my visitor has spread already. I guess it saves me the trouble of trying to make an appointment with the senior partners.

"Thank you," I tell Mathilde, who bobs and leaves the room.

I gather up what few notes I made during the visit, and make my way towards (Lord) Stern's office, moving as quickly as I can without looking undignified.

Michael, behind the desk outside of Lord Stern's office as he usually is, contents himself with glancing up and saying "They're expecting you," before looking down at the paperwork on his desk. He's from a good family native to Amber and, as far as I can tell, views everyone here as his social inferior, with the possible exception of Lord Stern. Especially the women.

He may be Lord Stern's secretary, but it's very much in the sense that he keep Lord Stern's secrets. It's common knowledge around the office that he's Prince Corwin's man.

I wonder how long it's going to be before Prince COrwin hears of Princess Kalinda's visit, if he already knows about it.

I wonder what his response is going to be.

Stern, Diane and Will are seated around the table when I enter.

"Alicia," Stern says as I enter, and indicates the seat opposite him with one hand.

I smile a little tensely and make my way to the offered chair.

"We understand you've had a visitor," Will starts, giving me a smile that's probably supposed to be encouraging, but mostly looks strained around the edges.

"Yes." I can't quite bring myself to say her name, as if that might make what's happening a little less real.

It's a game of let's pretend, but one I'm willing to indulge in just at the moment.

"What did she want?" Diane asks, a little bluntly.

"She wants us to defend her against a charge of treason."

The other three exchange a look, then focus back towards ms. "Us?" Stern asks.

"Me," I admit.

There's a noticeable drop in tension at that word. Everyone is still concerned, of course, but, equally, everyone has 'Not me' written across their forehead in big letters.

Even Will, and I can't help hating him for a second because of it.

Though at least he has the grace to give me an apologetic look.

"Can't we turn her down, on the grounds of a conflict of interest?" I have to ask. Because in any sane country, lawyers tied to the accuser would be banned from representing the accused.

Will and Diane's eyes flick towards Stern, and I'm reminded that I'm in Amber - not a sane country by anyone's definition.

"As you know, because of our connection to Prince Corwin, we've been advising on a number of legal matters," Stern begins. "As Queen Florimel spent quite a bit of time in the United States, this includes advice on reforming Amber's laws." Which are an anarchic mess, even by the standards of the US. "Part of this includes offering unbiased counsel and representation to any who request it."

I hadn't heard the particulars, but even I know enough to realise that this is a fiction, of course. Up until now, any of our clients have been careful to mention Prince Corwin at every turn, as if by doing so they could gain his favour.

"So despite Prince Corwin being our patron, we're actually completely neutral parties in the city."

"Officially, yes. Prince Corwin is very keen on the idea of our neutrality," Stern says.

Which is sounding rather too much like 'If anything goes wrong, in the view of either Prince Corwin *or* Princess Kalinda, you're going to be hung out to dry.'

Much to my surprise, Will clears his throat. "Maybe I should take first chair on this. Or second." He waves his hand vaguely in my direction. "I mean, I've been here a little longer than Alicia, and..." He shrugs, giving me a pained smile.

I instantly forgive him his earlier relief, even finding myself starting to hope, just a little.

But Stern is in full Lord mode, already shaking his in a manner which brooks no dissent.

"Princess Kalinda approached Alicia personally." He smiles thinly. "Let's *not* be seen to insult her decision-making."

"You'll have our full support on this case," Diane breaks in.

I can't help noting that her full support doesn't include trying to find me a way out of this trap.

There's a part of me that wants to scream that I'm only a first year associate, and I shouldn't have to handle something like this yet.

But there's another part of me, long buried, the part that went through Georgetown and scored top marks, the part that says 'We can do this, or at least have a damn good go.'

I take a moment to steady myself, then look at Diane.

"Thank you," I say to her. "I'm going to need a runner to get as many of the details of her case and court dates as possible." 

I turn to face Stern. "Sir, is there any way you can get any details about the judge who will be handling the case?" I've only been on third chair for a few cases so far, but Amber seems to have a more than functional old boy's network. There's no way I can make up for not having known the judge for centuries, but I need to know if there's any way I can become more than a faceless outsider. 

And finally Will. "Is there any chance that you can get me into the castle library? And preferably access to a good scholar." We've been amassing a law library here as quickly as we can, but there's over a thousand years of often contradictory precedent in the Amber library. Will's the one who has been spending the most time there, making friends and gaining contacts.

There's a long moment as the three senior partners look at me.

If we were on Earth, I'd probably already be fired for acting the way I just had.

But we're not. 

And here, now, they need me as much as I need them, if they want to use me as a cutout between the firm and Princess Kalinda.

Then Stern nods, slowly. "Let's get on it."

 

The Amber library is one of those places that feels like the dimensions don't quite add up. One of those places that, every so often, makes me think back and ask myself 'Doesn't this corridor overlap that room I was in earlier.'

Of course, given that I'm currently in what could be summarised as a fairytale castle inhabited by worldwalking immortals, I guess this impression could be entirely correct.

It's also the only library I've seen that has a wet bar, albeit in a section generally reserved for the royal family. Still, that did leave an impression.

Though the fact that I've been walking for what seems like several hours now, and every room and every corridor I've entered in this mazelike sub-edifice has had every available wall lined with books has left more of one, it has to be said.

Otto, my burly dark haired guide and the scholar that has been assigned to me, stops for a moment, running his hand along one shelf before picking out a book and placing it on the trolley that we'd been wheeling behind us.

I pick it up to read the spine. "Memories of the Lighthouse at Dawn?" I have to ask.

Otto doesn't even spare a glance backwards. "It's some prose written by the presiding judge under a pseudonym a few centuries ago," he tells me. "Pay attention to pages 81 to 107. I understand that's his favourite passage."

I drop the book back onto the trolley and sigh. 

As if I didn't have enough to take in.

Amber law is, as I've thought many times before, a mess.

One city has managed to accumulate three sets of law and precedent.

City law is the first and most basic set we deal with. This, in the main, concerns inhabitants of the city or the surroundings dealing with other inhabitants. It's complicated by the fact that there are three main types of inhabitant under the law - noble, commoner and foreigner, in roughly descending order of how many rights they have under the law.

Port law seems to mainly consist of exceptions to City law. Amber is the centre of a web of trade that stretches across around fifty worlds, and ships arrive and depart here every day, carrying cargo to and from Amber. The city always takes its cut, of course, but in return special laws hold sway over the port and warehouse districts.

Of course, many nobles have their own shipping companies, and many of the trade routes between Amber and other worlds are considered part of the domain of one noble house or another. This naturally means that imfluential noble houses tend to use whichever set of laws are more favourable to them at any given time.

King's law (not Queen's law - Queen Florimel has only been monarch for five or so years, and Amber society is far from quick to respond to change, or be egalitarian for that matter) is the third set of laws. It appears to mainly consist of precedent set by the previous but one king, the current queen's father, Oberon. He seems to have ruled with an iron hand for pretty much the whole of recorded history, a period that stretches for well over a thousand years and ended a mere thirty or so years ago.

It's also, traditionally, the only set of law that holds sway over the royal family (barring a section of Port Law that seems to mainly exist to stop the royal family messing around with the trade network using their world walking abilities). Murder, for instance, tends to come under City Law, unless the Crown has an interest in the person killed, meaning that the royal family can legally kill pretty much whoever they want for no reason at all.

This isn't exactly a cheery thought under the circumstances.

Florimel, in her time on the throne, has been trying her best to consilidate these three sets of law into one semi-coherent whole. This is one of the things that our firm has apparently been trying to help with.

We've had limited success so far.

What makes this whole morass pertinent to my current mess, as well as the headache currently raging in my forebrain, is that the princess isn't being charged with high treason, under King's law. No, she's being charged with common treason, under City Law.

If killing someone often isn't a crime under King's Law, neither capturing an enemy agent nor not delivering them to the proper authorites is even mentioned under King's Law. Indeed, reading between the lines, King Oberon used to play the kind of games where this kind of neat one-upmanship - removing a threat whilst embarrassing a family member - would merit a reward not a punishment.

A commoner or a noble, on the other hand, would have to be careful unless they were working under the auspices of an appropriate authority. Indeed, interfering in matters of national security had gotten unlucky nobles (for which read those who had managed to attract Oberon's ire) charged with common treason.

And this was the precedent under which the princess is being charged, using the queen's consolidation of laws.

It's paper thin, at best. 

If the Queen wanted to, she could dismiss the charges easily.

She hasn't. 

Which could mean that she's truly agnostic on the matter, or that she supports Prince Corwin. 

It could even mean that she's using him as a catspaw.

This whole thing reeks of politics which I simply have no idea about, and that's even before I get to the distinctly odd manner in which the princess contracted specifically my services.

It feels like I'm being set up to fail, and I don't like that one iota.

The only good news from all of this is that I'm beginning to form some lines of questioning which might have a chance of working.

I hope.

It's around this point when I'm rubbing my temples trying to sooth the ache, and realising that I'm really not certain exactly how long ago the sun sunk beneath the horizon when the messenger comes.

It's a young man, blond hair, scrawny with impish looking eyes.

"Mistress Cavanaugh?" he asks.

"Yes?"

"The Queen would like to see you now," he says, without even the pretence of offering me a choice.

Oh.

Great.

Just what I needed.

 

Walking through the castle is very different at night. 

During the day, the place is well lit, with an almost constant stream of people scurrying one way or another. The place feels busy, almost like a small metropolis.

During the night, it's something else entirely. We pass the occasional brazier, illuminating a small area in welcome, golden light, but for the most part the only thing that allows me to see is the lantern held aloft by the messenger. The flickering light only dimly sketches the corridor before us, side rooms and passages appearing and disappearing like ghosts. I sight the occasional other moving light, which only briefly resolves into another wanderer before they pass us and move on their way.

It's at times like this when I'm really confronted with the fact that we're in a pre-electrical society, where the majority of people are in bed during the hours of darkness. The firm is prosperous enough that we can all afford candles and other sources of illumination that help us keep our normal hours within our own little domain.

This is an almost alien, unsettling experience. 

The only good thing is that it distracts me from what's awaiting me at the end of the trip.

Guards standing alertly in a pool of light is my first sign that we've arrived. The messenger, who still hasn't introduced himself, nods to them then knocks on the door they're guarding.

"Come in," responds a somewhat muffled female voice.

He opens the door to reveal an almost brightly lit room. Commanding my attention is a woman sitting behind a desk, her hair a golden cloud in the lamplight. Even without being able to see her eyes clearly, she conveys an impression of warmth.

"Please, sit down," she says, indicating one of the chairs on the side of the desk nearest me.

"Mistress Cavanaugh, isn't it?" she asks as I seat myself. "I'm sorry to call upon you at this late hour, but I must confess that I find my days rather busy. Could I offer you some tea?"

I'm reminded that I haven't had anything to drink for some hours. (My stomach also reminds me that I skipped dinner whilst caught up in studying case history, but I hope the grumbles aren't audible.)

"Yes, please," I reply.

She nods, and a servant seemingly appears out of nowhere to retrieve a pot from over the fire and pours us both a cup of some unidentifiable herbal tea.

It has a light, fruity taste with a refreshing zing, and I only just stop myself from asking what's in it.

For a monarch, the queen has a truly disarming manner.

The queen takes a sip herself, closes her eyes a moment, then puts the cup down on a saucer and regards me with calm eyes so clearly blue that I can even see their colour in this light.

"I understand that you have taken up the defense of Princess Kalinda."

"Yes."

"I regret the position this must have placed you in, given who the patron of your firm is."

"It does place me in an uncomfortable position, professionally speaking," I say as neutrally as I can, trying not to let myself hope too much.

There's a light tightening of her eyes, and she half raises a hand to her forehead, as though it is paining her. "I'm sure that you will do your utmost best to exonerate your client, regardless of any other connections," she says, and there's a hint of an edge to her voice.

I duck my head rapidly. "Of course."

"One of the reasons I requested your presence was to ask you to let me know if you suffer *any* undue pressure. Any at all," she says, and suddenly those calm eyes are piercing instead.

My children is the first thing that springs to mind, as always.

I want to have my children back.

That was the main incentive that Will had dangled in front of me to get me sign up.

Untold wealth was all well and good, but my children...

But that promise hasn't been used against me yet, one way or another, and I can't help feeling that my position here is precarious enough as it is.

That and the fact that I'm starting to get the idea that giving anyone more leverage to use against me is probably a bad idea at this point.

So I merely say, "I'll send you a message if anything like that happens."

"Thank you," she says, again so soft and warm and *concerned* that it's difficult to believe that edge was ever there at all. "I understand that you haven't resided with us for that long. If there's anything we can do to help you prepare better, please let the staff know. I want to make sure that justice is done here, and that involves making sure you have a level field with the prosecutor."

"Thank you," I say, hopelessly charmed despite myself.

"I'd love to speak with you further, but even at this time of night, I really do have other things I need to be getting on with. You have my thanks again for taking on such a trying case," she says, shaking my hand.

I get to my feet and leave. The messenger who led me here is waiting outside, and starts taking me in the direction of the castle entrance.

Meanwhile, my mind is working furiously.

Why had the queen wanted to see me, if she was so busy?

Nothing we'd talked about couldn't have been handled by exchanged messages. Certainly I wouldn't have taken her any less seriously.

On the surface, she seemed to be offering me her support in as neutral a way as possible, but that couldn't be all there was to it.

What ever deeper layer there might be eluded me, though.

Wheels within wheels, wheels within wheels.


	3. Chapter 3

The day dawns bright, and entirely far too early.

Another problem with working in a pre-electrical society is that everyone wakes up at dawn.

Everyone.

Company policy normally relaxes this a little for lawyers, especially if we've been up late. 

Unfortunately, I'm the lead on the biggest case we've ever had. I don't want to count on that leeway just at the moment. 

Besides, knowing my luck, my client will decide to visit just after sunup.

Worst of all, coffee is a distinctly luxury item here, imported from far off worlds.

Luckily, there's a local tea with quite a kick to it that serves as a good replacement. It's... a little odd tasting, but I'm starting to get used to it.

I get the distinct feeling that I may well be acclimated to it by the time this case it over.

Still, this doesn't help me get up any quicker. I don't have time to try and light a fire to boil some water, so the nearest pot of tea is at the firm.

Leaving the house, after only far too few hours of sleep and no caffeine, feels distinctly inhuman.

It could be worse, though. A year ago, a few months ago, before I arrived here, before some of the aches and pain that came with aging started to fade, this would have been so much worse.

When I enter the building that serves as the office for the firm, there's something in the air. 

The receptionist, or whatever the Amber equivalent is, is just a little too calm-featured. 

There's a conversation between two of my coworkers that cuts off as soon as they see me.

And the servants seem to be moving just a little too quickly, making just a tad too much of a production of their usual efficiency.

Most of it could just be the mess I've managed to land into the middle of - Lord knows it's gossipworthy enough - but there's something else as well.

It wasn't quite this bad yesterday, either.

It's almost like...

Oh no.

I quickly retreat back outside and check the stables attached to the building. 

There is, in fact, a very distinctive horse there.

Oh... typical.

It appears that Prince Corwin is visiting the firm.

 

I manage to reach my office without encountering the prince, and shut the door behind me.

There.

That hadn't been so hard, had it?

And, maybe, by making sure that any meeting can be nothing other than deliberate on his part, the queen's injunction against any undue pressure might be enough to protect me.

Maybe.

I still don't know what the game is here, but I'm not yet willing to brave Corwin's presence to find out. Assuming he's doing this by the book, at least on the surface, he won't be prosecuting in person, anyway.

It's while I'm hiding in my office, going over the notes I made yesterday, that I hear raised voices from the front of the building. 

As I approach the window in my office that overlooks the street, I revise my opinion - make that raised *nervous* voices.

And, upon looking out, I see the reason for that qualifier.

It looks like a group of men dressed in the garb of the city guard are trying to arrest a very uncooperative looking Princess Kalinda.

Great.

I sprint for the door, flinging it open and rushing into the corridor in a thoroughly undignified manner.

I may have not wanted this client, but I'm not going to let her be slaughtered on the steps of my workplace.

Or do the slaughtering, for that matter.

I take the stairs at a frankly unwise speed, but somehow manage to avoid tumbling down them, skidding around on the polished floor at the bottom to try and redirect my momentum in the direction of the foyer.

I almost succeed, and can only hope that no one sees me thump into the wall next to the door.

But... it certainly stops me, and I enter the entranceway in time to hear one of the guards say: "Be that as it may, your Highness, we're still under direct orders to arrest you." The quavering in his voice undercuts his message somewhat, but the guards' grip on their weapons is white-knuckle tight, and they look like they're nerving themselves up to approach the princess.

Kalinda, on the other hand, looks positively cool. Her hand is resting lightly on the hilt of her sword, which she hasn't even drawn yet. Her face is almost masklike in its calmness as she regards them. "You can try," she tells them, the threat clear for all that it's implicit. She shifts slightly as I exit the door, shifting her stance so she's facing me as well as the guards.

As if I'm another enemy she has to take into consideration.

"Mistress Cavanaugh," she says, tilting her head slightly. "Thanks for the reception." And, just for a second, there is something in her eyes, a blazing fury that stops me cold.

And then it's gone as if it was never there.

I raise my hands in surrender. "I don't know anything about this. Honestly." I turn to face the guards. "Why are you trying to arrest my client?"

The guard who's doing the talking looks back at me. All of them still have a tight grip on their weapons, but there's an abrupt lowering of the tension, and he looks relieved to be talking to someone, anyone, other than the princess. "Her highness has been accused of treason. We were sent to secure her, to make sure that she doesn't flee."

I studied these codes last night. "You're treating her as nobility, rather than royalty?"

Not that royalty could be traditionally charged with common treason, but they certainly wouldn't be arrested for it even if so.

The royals were infamously touchy about being arrested, and, historically, it had only happened if they'd already been condemned.

"Uh..." the guard hesitated, his eyes flicking to a point behind me. "Yes. I guess."

I glanced behind me to see a tall, handsome man with curly black hair and forest green eyes, dressed in black and silver with a sword at his side, watching the proceedings quietly behind me, smirking slightly.

I resist the urge to fiddle with my hair, and instead simply step away from the entrance, trying to put some distance between myself and the newcomer.

I really don't need to add to the assocation between myself and Prince Corwin in anyone's mind. Especially that of my client.

He doesn't seem to want to add anything, so I turn my attention back to the others.

The tension in the guards is back and present in force. They're standing straighter and look more confident holding their weapons.

And Kalinda, Kalinda has advanced to the state of holding the hilt of her sword tightly, as if she's getting ready to draw it at any second.

If they're treating Kalinda as nobility, they do have a right to arrest her. 

They even have a right to take her weapon, which frankly seems like a bad idea, regardless of the presence of Prince Corwin.

I move over to Kalinda slowly, hands still raised, looking as unthreatening as I can.

Her knuckles go pale, but she doesn't tell me to stop, doesn't stab me.

I can only count this as a good first step.

"If you fight the guards," I tell her, "You'll only add to the charges against you." Killing guardsmen of Amber falls under King's Law. "And these ones will be harder to contest."

She smiles cynically. "You really think you're going to be able get me off the current ones?"

I take a moment to consider. "I think I've got a chance," I tell her honestly. "And if you attack the guards, they'll be able to throw you in the dungeons."

"You think that's not where I'm headed anyway?" she asks me, her stance screaming that she's *more* than happy to take her chances with the other option.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Corwin casually place a hand on the hilt of his own sword.

I mentally review what I learned yesterday, about the nobility and their rights. 

My client already doesn't believe in me, so I can't afford to make any claims I can't absolutely back up.

Even so...

"I think I've got a good chance of making sure that doesn't happen." I give her my best professional smile. "Trust me," I say, injecting as much confidence as I can into my voice.

I only hope it's enough to persuade her.

She looks deep into my eyes for a long moment, then looks at the guards and smirks. "Must be your lucky day. Take me in, then."

There's an explosive release of breath from both me and the guards, and the latter cautiously approach.

A flash of almost disappointment flashes through Corwin eyes, then he focusses on me for a few seconds, assessing me, then turns and disappears back into Lockhart, Gardner and Stern.

There's a tense moment as the head guard asks for Kalinda's weapon, but then she merely smiles, and takes off her weapon belt, handing it to him.

I note that he doesn't push his luck and try and search her, though.

"Thank you, mistress," the guard says to me as they're about to leave.

I smile thinly at him. "Princess Kalinda is my client. I *will* be coming with you." He looks like he's about to argue, so I add, "I can assure you that it's proper procedure. Unless you'd like to disturb Prince Corwin to ask him."

"She's coming with us," Kalinda says, in a tone that brooks no dissent.

The guard looks between us, and, obviously deciding that discretion is the better part of valour, nods.

I flash a more genuine smile towards Kalinda. "Thank you."

She gives me a more neutral one in response. "I like to keep my friends close," she says in a way that clearly communicates she knows the end of that saying. And yet there's a glint of humour in her eyes, and I can't help deepening my smile a little in response.

The guards form up around us. "This way," the head guard says, leading us down a street in the direction of the central district and the headquarters of the city guard.

The trip takes about an hour through increasingly busy streets. Most people either ignore the procession, or just scuttle out of the way, averting their eyes as best they can, but there's enough that pay attention to us to make me uncomfortable. 

For a place without telephones, the rumours spread through Amber's grapevine with unholy speed.

By nightfall, everyone in the city is going to know that Princess Kalinda has been arrested by the city guard. But without facts, doubtless rumour is going to run rife, and I can't help thinking that this isn't going to help our chances at trial.

Still, there's not much to be done about it now.

We finally arrive, and we're led inside by the guard, who looks more than a little relieved to have arrived without incident. 

Or maybe he's just pleased to have plenty of reinforcements he can quickly call upon.

It's a little hard to tell.

Before we go any further, I say to the guard, "I'd like to consult with my client in private, please."

He looks back at me, clearly conflicted. "I don't think that's..."

"I believe you'll find it's completely legal," I tell him calmly and firmly.

His eyes flick towards Kalinda and back again.

"If you're arresting her like she's a noble, then she has a right to consult a lawyer." The guard still looks unconvinced, so I add smoothly. "I believe that Prince Corwin supported that law."

Corwin's name is apparently the magic word, and the guard nods and changes course, leading us to a private room. "A guard wil be stationed outside," he tells me.

"In private," I say, pushing.

His expression hardens. "We need to make sure the prisoner doesn't try and escape."

We both notice Kalinda's hand twitching and the guard goes for the hilt of his sword, but, after a moment, nothing happens, and he relaxes.

"If I wanted you dead," Kalinda says, smiling unpleasantly. "We wouldn't be talking right now."

"I have to do everything by the book," he insists.

I have to wonder what Corwin has threatened to do if anything goes wrong.

Or maybe he just commands this level of respect or fear naturally.

"This is by the book," I tell him. "I do understand that you have to have someone watching the door," I say, trying to come up with a compromise. "Couldn't he do that from down the hallway, where he can't overhear what we're talking about?"

The guard considers my point, then nods. "Fine," he says, "But if anything suspicious happens, he's going to be stationed outside the door for the rest of your visit, whether it's your fault or not."

Which means that he could end this little arrangement anytime he wanted to.

Great.

"Thank you," I tell him anyway.

The room looks more like a waiting room than an interview room. There's a bench along one wall, and a couple of uncomfortable looking wooden chairs along another. Kalinda strides over to one chair, lifting it easily, and depositing it in the corner opposite the doorway, clearly so she can cover both me and it. I take the other chair, dragging it with considerably more difficulty, and place it facing Kalinda but not getting between her and the exit. I then walk to the door, and make sure that the guard has retreated.

He has.

"So," Kalinda says as I sit myself down. "I take it Corwin didn't appreciate me retaining your services."

"Apparently not," I reply.

Having Kalinda arrested when she came to visit our firm certainly sends a message about how happy Corwin is about that.

Kalinda looks at me levelly. "Still planning on representing me?"

Not exactly happily, but... "To the best of my abilities," I tell her, honestly enough.

Kalinda assesses me for a moment, then a smile flickers across her face. "Good," she says. "What's your plan?"

"About this?" I ask, gesturing around us, "Or about the trial more generally?"

"Immediate problem first."

"You're being treated as a noble on a charge of common treason. By precedent, any member of the royal family can vouch for your release until trial."

Of course, things didn't tend to go too well for any noble who broke bail. It was considered a slight upon the honour of the royal, and the only way to expunge it was with blood.

"Do you have a family member who would vouch for you?"

Her face blanks for a second before regaining animation. "My uncle Julian would."

"Prince Julian? Of Arden?" I clarify, and Kalinda nods, and my heart sinks a little. By my understanding, the forest of Arden begins well over a day's travel outside of Amber, and is truly massive, stretching for hundreds of miles, if not multiple worlds. I could dispatch a messenger, but I have no idea about how long it would take for them to reach Julian, or for him to return once he had gotten the message. "Do you know if there's a quick way to contact him?"

Kalinda studies me for a moment, then reaches inside her clothing. She brings out what looks like a set of large playing cards and starts sorting through them. She takes one out, and places it on the table, before returning the rest of the pack to where she was carrying them before. The card on the table contains the picture of a man with long, dark hair and an impassive face dressed in some kind of white armour comprised of scales. The picture is very detailed, almost photo-realistic. In fact, the longer I look, the more details became apparent. Are those individual blades of grass I can see? I bend closer, to get a better look and...

Kalinda slaps her hand over the card and it almost feels like a psychic shock, like I was in some kind of trance.

"Don't do that until you get out of here," she advises me blandly.

"What is it?"

"Amongst the family, we call it a Trump. If you concentrate on one, you can make contact with the person it depicts."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Not unless the person you're talking to wants to make it so. You might want to tell Julian that you're doing this for me quickly."

"Oh."

"And don't lose it. Julian... well, Julian lacks a sense of humour about most things. But I doubt that losing his Trump would please him. Still want it?"

I'm already in way too far over my head. Taking possession of a magical card would only push me ever deeper.

On the other hand...

"Is there no other way to get hold of Julian quickly?"

"You could always ask another member of the family," she says.

That'd probably be worse.

I take a breath, and place my hand over hers. "You're my client. If this is the best way to help you, I'll do it."

"Huh," she says.

Her hand lingers under mine for just a second, warm and unexpectedly soft. At least on the side I was touching. 

Again, that glint of humour flashes through her eyes.

And then she slides her hand out from under mine, leaving it to cover the card in its stead.

"What's the bigger plan?"

I consider my options.

"Given Corwin's visit to the firm, I'm not sure how much support I can rely on from them," I tell her honestly.

"I can arrange to get you somewhere to work out of."

"I going to need staff as well, and I need information. There's far too much I don't know."

"I have some friends who'd be willing to help," Kalinda says. "They might not be the kind of staff you're used to, but... they're flexible. I'm sure they'll adapt."

I can't help raising my eyebrows a little at that, and Kalinda flashes me another smirk.

"How can I get arrange to get in contact with them?"

She thinks for a moment. "Get me out of here first. Then we'll talk."

"One final thing. The Queen offered to help me, to 'even the playing field' if I needed it. Do you have any instructions in that regard?"

It's impossible to tell what she's thinking from her face, but she shakes her head slowly. "Not at the moment."

I get to my feet. "Well, I'll commence doing my best to get you out of here."

Kalinda offers me a sphinxlike smile. "I look foward to seeing you work."


	4. Chapter 4

The walk back to my house is tense.

Not because I expect anything to happen, not really.

But I'm holding an item of eldritch sorcery (words I never thought I'd use seriously, thank you Owen) and there's a part of me that can't help wondering if Corwin is going to find out and stop me, despite the fact that he's my patron.

Or possibly because of it.

It takes a little longer to return than it did to get here, not helped by the fact that I'm not that familiar with this part of town, but I don't stop, don't even think about what I'm holding.

There's no way I'm going to use this unless I'm somewhere safe, with a fair degree of privacy.

Finally, I'm back.

"Hello?" I call out, but no one responds. The maid must have already been and gone.

Good. It isn't exactly as though I want an audience for what I'm about to do.

I settle into the big chair in my study, and take out the card. Looking at it, it's all too easy to fall into the same trance. The details on his white armour become clearer, and I can almost see each individual strand of his long, black hair...

And then I'm looking at a man, not a picture. He's on horseback, riding through what looks like a forest. 

The shift gives me the impression that it happened slowly, but, for the life of me, I can't remember any of the points in between.

But it's not just something I can *see*. I can *feel* him in my head, a cold, solid presence.

"Who are you?" the man - Prince Julian - asks me. His voice is cold, expressionless, yet still manages to convey a threat perfectly adequately.

'Tell me why I shouldn't kill you.'

I shiver, convulsively, but somehow manage to keep my face calm. "I was sent by Princess Kalinda." Nothing happens to ne, which I can only count as a success. "I don't know if you're aware, but she has been accused of treason..."

"I know," he says, interrupting. "Get to the point."

"She's been arrested, but I should be able to get her out until the trial if a member of the royal family agrees to stand for her."

"She's been arrested?" he asks.

I nod.

"By the city guard, rather than by those of the castle." Despite the words, his tone conveys that this is more of a statement than a question.

And this isn't an academic question. The castle, an edifice of almost Gormenghast-like proportions, sitting high up on a plateau on the slopes of Mount Kolvir, overlooking the city, is, historically, a law unto itself, and its guard are commanded by Prince Random rather than Prince Corwin.

"Yes."

"I see. Bring me through, then," he says, extending a hand towards me in a fashion that makes it look as though his arm is actually going to come through the card and into my study.

"I, uh, I'm not sure that your presence would be useful just at the moment. I mainly need to know whether or not you'll stand for her, so I can arrange a hearing with a judge."

"I will stand for her. Bring me through."

I look at him for a moment, then come to the conclusion that I really shouldn't question a Prince's wishes. "How do I accomplish this?"

"Kalinda didn't explain this to you?"

"There wasn't that much time."

"Reach into the card, take my hand and pull me towards you."

Oh. Okay then. "Will your horse be coming too?" Because, if so, I really didn't want to do this in here.

It may not have been a specific item, but I'm fairly sure that bringing a horse into the study would be against the rental contract.

Also, after having been in Amber for a while, I'd gained a new appreciation for how big horses are. I'm not exactly sure how I'd get it out of the room, let alone the house.

"I'll make sure he doesn't."

Oh. Good.

I concentrate on the card, and very tentatively poke a finger towards it. Rather than hitting the surface of the card, like I half expect, my finger passes straight through it, and the scene in front of my solidifies further.

Julian, rather impatiently, takes my hand, and, over his shoulder, says, "Lead everyone home," to someone that I can't see.

He then tugs on me, hard, and appears in front of me, the forest scene vanishing behind him, his presence disappearing from my head.

After briefly scanning the room around him, he returns his focus to me and plucks the card from out of my hand. "So, you need to arrange a hearing with a judge," he says coldly.

I nod, suppressing the instinct to shiver. He's even more imposing in person, with the added height advantage.

He reaches into a pouch hanging at his belt, and retrieves a pack of cards, much like Kalinda's, shuffling a card out and concentrating on it.

"Flora," he says flatly, sounding more like he's talking to a younger sister who has been misbehaving than to a queen.

He pauses for a moment. "How delightful for you, your Majesty," he says, then grabs me by the shoulder. Queen Florimel's study appears in front of me in an ethereal fashion, much like the forest. The queen herself is seated in front of me, behind her desk, managing to look both like she's listening to Julian as well as gently reproachful. "Kalinda's lawyer tells me we need a hearing with a judge to deal with the latest outbreak of Corwin's pettiness."

In addition to Julian's presence, I can also feel hers, a calm, peaceful feeling that feels more like a sunlit woodland glade than Julian's iceberg.

She spares me a slight smile, before returning her attention to Prince Julian. "Which 'pettiness' is this?"

"He's had her arrested."

"She's being held in the central guardhouse of the city," I interject.

Florimel looks a little pained. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I hadn't actually been informed. Not that Corwin is obliged to inform me, technically, but..." she lets the sentence trail off. "I'll make sure that a hearing is arranged as quickly as possible. You know where the central courthouse is?"

I nod.

"Are you going to tighten Corwin's leash?" Julian asks. "Because the *only* reason I've stayed out of this so far is that you assured me that this was going to be a fair trial."

Florimel raises her eyebrows a little at that, but merely says. "Technically, Corwin is within his rights as Commander of the Guard."

"*Technically*, I also have rights, as Lord of Arden."

She smiles. "Of course. I would ask you that you not exercise them, but I can hardly stop you should you decide otherwise. A point, I assure you, I will relay to Corwin."

Julian stares at her for a moment, before his lips twitch a little. 

"In the meantime," she continues. "I will use the prerogative of the Crown to assign Judge Kyvale to the case. For this hearing, at the least,"

Julian's lips twitch a little more at the name of the judge, then he nods. "I believe that will be a message Corwin will receive."

"I would hope so," she says a little dryly. "Now, if you would not mind, I do have other matters of importance to deal with."

Julian removes his hand from my shoulder and the scene disappears. He then places it over the face the card, and shuffles it back into the pack.

"So, you know where this courthouse is," he says.

"Yes. It's in the noble district, fairly close to the main elevator."

I almost whimper as my feet throb in anticipation of starting yet another long walk, but my client calls. Also, Julian. Though I'd certainly gotten more used to walking since I'd arrived here, this house is fairly close to the firm's offices and I'd already had two fairly major treks today.

Julian doesn't bother asking where we currently are, just turns and walks outside the house. The sheer cliff face leading up to the plateau upon which the castle rests looms over the city, and the main elevator, the primary way to travel to and from the castle, is clearly visible from almost anywhere.

I follow Julian out to see him look around. "Where's the nearest guard station?" he asks.

I think for a moment, then lead him first to the left, then the third right. It takes a few minutes, but guard stations are fairly closely spaced in this part of the city.

The guards are lounging around on chairs when we approach - for all that this district is well guarded, actual trouble doesn't occur that often. One guard yawns, and stretches so far that he can see all the way behind him - a view that includes us advancing towards him.

There's a moment of complete shock, and then it's a blur of motion as, with a slap and a poke, the other guards become aware of their situation and leap to their feet as well.

By the time that Julian reaches the post, they are the most alert guards I've ever seen, saluting smartly.

Julian ignores them, focussing purely on one with an insignia on one pectoral. "We need two horses."

Two... "I can't ride," I interject as the guard nods, waves at another guard who is already starting to make his way towards the stable.

Julian slides a glance my direction, then looks back at the guard. "Make that one horse."

The guard nods again, and snaps. "One horse," to the guard who has disappeared inside by this point.

A few minutes later, the other guard reappears leading a fully tacked horse by the reins, which he proceeds to hand to Julian.

I'm reminded of how big horses really are, yet again.

Julian stares the horse in the eyes for a few seconds, then releases the reins, turning towards me. "Keep very still," he advises me, as he lifts me up with as much ease as if I was a child, and places me on the back of the horse. He then mounts it in one fluid movement.

"Hold onto me," is the only warning he gives before the horse jolts into motion.

I cling desperately as the horse bounces forward *entirely* too vigorously for my tastes, the ground being equally *entirely* too far beneath me.

Though we're travelling through crowded streets, Julian doesn't seem to have any problem whatsoever navigating them. Even so, I have far too long to regret complaining, even if internally, about the condition of my feet. 

By the time we reach the courthouse, I'm fairly certain that I have bruises in fascinating new places that are going to make it a joy to sit down for the next week or so. 

And my back... 

This, this was definitely not part of the sales pitch.

And I'm in entirely the wrong demographic to enjoy being swept off my feet by a white knight.

Especially literally.

Finally, though, finally we're there.

Thank god.

Julian dismounts with the same ease he got on the horse (bastard) and then lifts me off the back of the hellmount and places me on the ground.

My legs are so rubbery that I almost collapse - I would have done if it weren't for Julian tightening his grip again and keeping me upright.

And, though I can't quite be sure, it looks like his lips twitch again as he does so.

Bastard.

"Let me know when you're steady," is all he actually says.

"I'm fine, thank you," I tell him and he releases me. I manage to stay on my feet, mainly through sheer effort of will and determination that I'm not going to back down in front of Prince Julian of Amber.

He looks at me for a moment, as if expecting me to fall over, then, when I don't, says, "We're here."

"I'm going to go and find out when the hearing is due," I tell him, and walk past him towards the entrance. 

I don't hear anything behind me, so it's not until I see his reflection in the door that I realise he's following me, completely silently.

I refuse to let him have the pleasure of seeing me jump, just pushing the door to let us inside.

There's a queue at the clerks' desk, but it mysteriously melts away when confronted with Julian's silent presence.

I guess he is good for something after all.

"Good afternoon," I tell the clerk, who is looking a little pale at Julian's presence himself. "Do you know when Princess Kalinda's hearing will be?"

"Um," he says. "We've had word that we're supposed to be holding it today, but the city guard haven't yet let us know what time they'll be getting here." His eyes flick behind me, and he smooths down the front of his already pristine tunic. "It's all been very rushed. There probably hasn't been time for word to get there and back here." He swallows, and his complexion loses even more colour. "But we're set up to go as soon as they arrive. Which could be in within the hour. Do you... do you want to wait in our finest room until then?"

"Acceptable," Julian says.

The clerk looks immediately relieved. "Please," he says, "Come this way."

Their finest room is richly appointed indeed. Intricate tapestries line the walls, with plush furniture and a crackling log fire that looks like it's just been laid. There's a bookcase that takes up part of one wall, and a drinks cabinet in another corner. 

Julian takes point regarding the alcohol, whereas I take the opportunity to sink down onto the softest chair I can see. 

It's... not soft enough. I can already see that I will indeed be regretting that horse ride for some time to come. Still, it's better than standing.

"Would you like a drink?" Julian asks.

I shake my head. "No, thank you. Not before a court case." 

That would be all I'd need.

He shrugs, pours himself a glass, and looks out of the window.

Time passes. Julian doesn't seem to feel the need to speak, and I return the favour.

It's not that the relevant parts of the legal code are that difficult to recall, or that I can't use a distraction from the aches and pains the cursed horse caused me, but involving myself any deeper than absolutely necessary with the royal family of Amber just seems like a bad idea. 

Especially one of them who seems to cause such extreme reactions just by their presence, like Julian.

Finally, there comes a knocking at the door.

"Come," says Julian, finally turning away from that window he's been standing motionless at for the last however long.

A woman in servant's clothes comes in and curtsies. "I've been sent to tell you that Princess Kalinda has arrived, your highness. If you would like to follow me, then I'll lead you to the courtroom."

Julian nods sharply, then follows the woman as she scurries out of the room.

I rise to my feet a little stiffly, feeling every single one of my years, wistfully thinking of a hot bath, before remembering the trek back to my house.

Maybe I could just rent a room at a nearby inn for the night, instead.

But first, the hearing.

We're led into a room that looks more like an extra-large study than a proper courtroom. More plush chairs are clustered into two groups, in front of a sturdy-looking ornate desk that dominates the room. Behind it sits a thin, scrawny man with greying hair who rises to his feet as Julian enters, before giving him a bow.

Judge Kyvale, I presume.

He then turns his attention in my direction, looking a little confused. "And who might you be?"

"Princess Kalinda's lawyer, your honour," I reply.

He raises his eyebrows. "Ah," he says. "I should have known." He glances in Julian's direction and doesn't say any more, but he hardly needs to - his tone says it all.

Amber is very traditional about women being in any position of authority.

And by traditional, I mean...

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. It isn't as though I haven't encountered similar attitudes before.

Honestly, it's something of a wonder that any women in the firm were brought to Amber at all. I couldn't help wondering if the queen might have had something to do with that.

The door behind us opens again, and Princess Kalinda, dressed much as before apart from wearing a pair of smoked-glass spectacles, is escorted into the room by four guards. She nods at Julian, and laconically raises a hand in my direction.

"Is anything wrong?" I ask, as she sits down.

"This?" she says, pointing to the glasses, then shrugs. "Headache."

Oh. Apparently even Princesses of Amber can suffer from them.

"I have some drugs that can help ease pain, if you'd like some."

She tilts her head a little, then shakes it, giving me something close to a genuine smile. "Thanks, but no. I doubt they'd help."

The door to the room opens a third time, and the entrance of a distinguished looking man bearing papers is somewhat overshadowed by the fact that Prince Corwin follows him in.

Wonderful. It's like a family reunion in here, 

If only I hadn't heard rumours about how those tended to go.

Corwin gives Kalinda a smile that's only a shade away from a smirk.

Kalinda doesn't react, but Julian stiffens a little. From the look that passes over Corwin's face, I can't help wondering if that was the intended effect.

Maybe it's the centuries of brotherhood. Or maybe it's that, in Amber, even at the pre-trial of a princess, it still has to be all about the men.

Children, children, I can't help thinking.

But deadly children, nonetheless.

Julian responds by first pointing at his eyes, then pointing at Corwin.

Corwin's hand flashes to the hilt of his sword, and his smile becomes a lot less friendly.

For a moment, it seems like everyone in the courtroom is holding their breath.

Then Kalinda reaches out and grips Julian's arm with one hand, raising her sunglasses with the other. Her eyes are bloodshot, and she blinks at the light. "Uncle," she drawls in Corwin's direction, giving him a sardonic smile. "Nice to see you turned up to my big day."

Corwin breaks eye contact with Julian to glare at her. "Keep your monster under control," he says, with a chill that almost matches Julian's.

The smile disappears from Kalinda's face, and she drops her glasses. She then very pointedly turns her head in the judge's direction.

But even if the tension in the air hasn't disappeared, it's at least greatly lessened.

"Counsellor," Kyvale says to the unnamed man, obviously familiar with him. "Present your case."

The man gets to his feet and clears his throat. "The defendant has been accused of the charge of common treason, your honour. We ask that she be held as a clear flight risk, as any other noble who could easily escape Amber would be. There are many cases of clear precedent for this, including Henry of Caravelle and Justinian of Maray."

Kyvale nods gravely. "Counsellor," he says, looking towards me.

"Your honour," I say, rising to my feet. "While we accept that the crown has the right to hold nobles who present a flight risk, there is equally clear precedent that a member of the royal family can stand for them, after accepting their oath that they will stand trial."

"Your honour!" the prosecutor says. "If, for the purposes of this case, we are treating the princess like any other noble, then surely we must treat her relatives likewise. For the purpose of this case," he adds hurriedly.

"While legislation has been passed to allow members of the royal family to be charged like nobility, nothing has been passed to strip them of any other rights. Including this one," I argue.

Kyvale raises his hand as my opponent opens his mouth to counterattack. "Enough. Counsellors, I am ready to pass my judgement. Whilst I cannot officially comment on the charges themselves, or any irony that may result from any persons in particular bringing charges of treason against anyone else..." At those words, I see even my opposite number glance almost involuntarily towards Corwin. Clearly, a story there. "The defence is correct. The right to stand for a noble accused of a crime - indeed, the right to knight a commoner just so they can stand for them - has not been stripped from the royal family. As such, if a member of the royal family can be found to stand for the defendant, I see no other option than to release her," he says, with possibly a touch more satisfaction than his words require.

Julian rises to his feet. "I will stand for the defendant."

Kyvale looks at Kalinda. "Will you give your word to Prince Julian that you will not seek to escape, and will stand trial of your own free will?"

Kalinda gracefully gets to her feet. "Prince Julian," she says. "I swear that I will not seek to escape, and will stand trial of my own free will."

Kyvale brings his gavel down. "Then the prisoner shall be released until the date of the trial," he says, looking far from unhappy at the decision.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Corwin visibly grit his teeth, but all he does is turn and sweep from the room. The prosecutor and the guards quickly follow him.

Kalinda gives me a half smile. "You did it," she says.

"I told you I would," I say, managing not to comment that she didn't have to sound quite so surprised.

"Still. You handled yourself well today."

"The law *is* my business," I can't help saying, a little stung.

"Not that," she says, shrugging, then looks at Julian. "Corwin surprised me today. A group of his guards tried to bring me in. It could have got nasty, but..." her eyes flick towards me, "You got me to come in without that."

It's Julian's turn to look at me, with renewed interest in his eyes. "I see."

"It would have made the case a lot trickier if she'd resisted arrest," I say.

"You think Corwin..?" Julian asks Kalinda.

She shakes her head. "Just got lucky. I annoyed him, getting one of his best lawyers."

"I'm just a first year associate," I say, defending myself. I may have been first in my class in Georgetown, but that had been a long time ago. I didn't want the princess getting any unrealistic ideas.

"Did well enough today. Come on, let's leave."

As we exit the building, the adrenaline of the case starts to fade, reminding me that I had an entirely too bouncy horse ride today.

Oh god. I've got to get back to my house, somehow.

Well, I'm not going to get up on another horse, that's for certain.

Kalinda glances towards me, her gaze lingering. "You're stiff," she notes.

"Prince Julian was kind enough to offer me a ride here," I say. Despite my best efforts, I'm fairly certain I sound a touch acerbic. "I've never been on a horse before."

"Trying to break my lawyer *before* the trial," she asks Julian, smirking a little.

"Bad tactics. My apologies," he says dryly.

Great. I've got a couple of comedians.

The smile fades from Kalinda's lips. "I know a good inn near here," she tells me. "Great bath, too."

My expression must betray quite how godlike that prospect seems right now, because she gives a sharp laugh.

"Come on," she says. "This way."


	5. Chapter 5

The 'inn' is tucked away just a few streets away from the main elevator. Despite the fact that it's almost hidden from view along a relatively quiet street, it's spacious, richly appointed and pretty much screams (or at least tastefully mentions) 'We don't advertise because we don't need to do anything *that* vulgar.' It's the kind of place I imagine is aimed at the kind of minor dignitaries who aren't *quite* important enough to be offered rooms at the Castle.  
  
Which, all in all, makes it something of a surprise when I realise that Kalinda is leading us towards it. I'm not quite sure why, but this doesn't seem like the kind of place that I imagined the princess would frequent.  
  
Nevertheless, she goes up to the front desk, has a quiet word with the receptionist and comes back with a key.  
  
"The man over there will show you to your room. It's not quite the best room in the place, but I'm assured it has a nice bath, and there is running hot water.  
  
Oh my lord. I could almost kiss the princess at that news.  
  
"Thank you," I tell her sincerely. "It's been *so* long since I've had access to that."  
  
She gives me a half smile. "You're not much use to me with your back locked up, are you?"  
  
I take another look around this place, just to confirm - this isn't the kind of hotel you just walk into and ask for a room. "Being a princess definitely has its perks." Kalinda gives me an enquiring look. "The ability to come in here and get a room, just like that."  
  
Her face becomes just a little more mask-like, then she shrugs. "It's not like that. The owner owes me a few favours, that's all."  
  
Well. That was awkward. I almost apologise, but I get the impression that might make things worse. And I'm not quite sure what I'd be apologising for.  
  
Better to just let sleeping dogs lie.  
  
"Well, the hot bath is calling my name," I say, trying to escape the suddenly awkward situation.  
  
Kalinda gives me a slow nod in response. "The bar here is good, if you want a drink afterwards. Food's not bad, either. Put everything on my tab."  
  
"Thanks," I say, give her a smile, then leave.  
  
Well, that went well, didn't it?  
  
  
  
The bath is a thing of beauty.  
  
Sized to be able to fit at least two people, easily, with enough room to lie down completely should I so wish. And turning the tap releases a pleasing torrent of water, which promises that it won't take nearly as long to fill as the size would suggest.  
  
On one wall, there's a cabinet holding the largest array of scents, oils and bubbles that I've ever seen, all of them unfamiliar. I can't help spending ten minutes just playing with the various combinations, just to figure out what mixture I want to use.  
  
Truly, to mangle the local aphorism, this is a bath of which all other baths are merely shadows.  
  
And it's all *mine* for the night.  
  
After running the water, I sink into it with a sigh, and let the warmth penetrate me. First my skin, then my flesh and finally my suffering bones.  
  
I'm not sure quite how long I stay there, gently floating in the warmth, but I do know that I have to partially refill the bath at least once. I'm so relaxed, I can't even bring myself to sit up to do it - I just raise one leg above the bubbles, and turn the tap with one foot.  
  
It's decadent, gloriously decadent.  
  
I can't help thoroughly approving.  
  
And it's just what I needed after that horse ride.  
  
After I finally emerge, warm and relaxed and pliable, I contemplate getting room service, but decide not to.  
  
Drinking alone in my room has never been one of my favourite activities at the best of times, and now it just reminds me of the time around the divorce.  
  
The time I lost custody of the kids.  
  
Given the minor scandal Peter had found himself embroiled in, yet somehow escaped the consequences for, the last thing I would have expected would be that I'd lose custody of Zach and Grace.  
  
But, apparently, being the State's Attorney could give one an unfair advantage.  
  
Who could have known?  
  
Taking the advice that a lawyer who represents themself has a fool for a client to heart, I'd hired someone on a contingency basis.  
  
Even now, I can't help wondering if that had been a mistake.  
  
Because I'd managed to get a fairly decent amount of money from the divorce, but not my children.  
  
And, between Peter's inability to accept that it was his actions that had set our marriage on the course to ruin and my frozen inability to forgive him in the slightest even as I stood by him, things between us had gotten dreadfully bitter.  
  
*His* lawyer certainly got the memo.  
  
Apparently, I was a mother who wouldn't be able to provide for her children, who hadn't had a job in over fifteen years, who had leeched off Peter for almost our entire marriage.  
  
Apparently, I couldn't be trusted to look after them without a man's income to support my profligate spending.  
  
Apparently... they were better off without me.  
  
And I couldn't even go out for a drink, lest pictures be taken and used as yet more evidence against me.  
  
And, after all of that, no one seemed to blame Peter when he cut off all but the bare minimum of contact between the kids and me.  
  
And the press, the press had decided to label me the villain, the woman who was so incapable of satisfying her man that he had to go outside his marriage to find any kind of fulfilment.  
  
I couldn't stay.  
  
Not after that.  
  
And, without the kids, there was nothing tying me there.  
  
So I'd left. Not just my home, my city, or even my country, but my whole world.  
  
And for what?  
  
Nothing but the flimsiest of promises that I could have it all back.  
  
That I could have my children back.  
  
And now, now I wouldn't be surprised if this was the case that killed me.  
  
No, I wasn't drinking alone tonight.  
  
The bar is a little different to what I'm used to. The common area is much like any other establishment I've been in, but there are also crooks and crevices, partitions that look like they're designed to ensure privacy around the edge. The customers - humans, or near humans - line the bar and are scattered amongst the tables. They are of many colours, and wear the clothes of many different cultures. The only thing they have in common is that they are all well dressed, with garments of a uniformly high quality.  
  
To be honest, I feel a little underdressed.  
  
There is one other person who stands out, someone who does not wear fine clothing. Instead, she's dressed in crimson mail, a sword slung at one side, and a haircut that looks like she hacked it off herself with the dagger that's resting on the other hip. She fairly obviously looks me over in an evaluating fashion as I enter, and I can't help feeling a little self-conscious, wondering if I stick out as much as she does.  
  
Nonetheless, I resolutely sit down at the bar. Going to a table would feel far too much like I'm alone, and here, at least, I can pretend that I could engage someone in conversation if I wanted to.  
  
I don't, but that's hardly the point.  
  
Seeing as though I'm on my employer's tab, and she doubtless has money to spare, I decide to familiarise myself with the local drinks. At the firm, most of us rely on Earth imports, but tonight I'm feeling adventurous.  
  
After some consultation with the barman, I arrange a line of drinks in front of me, ready for their trial.  
  
Only here there would be no brief, no uncooperative clients and witnesses, no opposing counsel.  
  
Just me and these guilty, guilty (and hopefully delicious) drinks.  
  
"I wasn't aware that I'd hired a lush," breathes a familiar voice into one ear.  
  
I twist my head around to see Kalinda, bending down, with her face far too close to mine.  
  
She's as hard to read as ever, but I'm fairly she's joking.  
  
And if she isn't... I'm precious close to just not caring at the moment.  
  
"I'm taking the opportunity to broaden my horizons," I tell her.  
  
"Amber's good for that, so I'm told."  
  
I can't help snorting, then glance at her quickly, to see if she's taken offence, but she's smiling a little wryly.  
  
"Not sure I see it either," she says as I take a sip from the leftmost drink, and pucker a little as the sour taste hits my lips. "Taste good?"  
  
I give her a withering look, and pick up the next drink. "Maybe this one will be better."  
  
The way she watches me expectantly as I raise the glass to my lips is warning enough, but, now I've started, there's no way I'm going to back down now. The sugary sweet concoction that dribbles into my mouth probably wouldn't be to my taste at the best of times, but, mixed with the aftertaste of the previous drink, it hits my stomach in a really unpleasant fashion.  
  
My gorge rises, once, twice, three times but finally settles without forcing me to redecorate the bar.  
  
All the while Kalinda sits there, watching me with the *most* damnable smirk on her face.  
  
And, abruptly, I've had enough.  
  
I may not have much left, but I do have my pride, and there's *no* way I'm losing that too.  
  
"Good evening, your highness," I say in my most glacial tone, getting to my feet sharply.  
  
My body protests a little at the rough treatment, but it's worth it.  
  
I've had entirely too many people laugh at me already, and I don't need it here too.  
  
There's a flash of surprise in her eyes as I leave her there, and I can't help feeling a little bit of vindictive amusement.  
  
I bet she doesn't have many people walking away from her like that.  
  
Because she's a princess.  
  
Of course.  
  
  
I wake, dispersing the remnants of vaguely unsettling dreams, to a rap-rap-rapping on my window pane.  
  
Wait, what?  
  
I get up, blinking a bit even in the light of the dawn, walk over to the window and open the curtain.  
  
There's a raven on the window sill, looking up at me with bright eyes for a long moment.  
  
It raps its beak once again against the glass, then flies off and up, circling into the air.  
  
Well thank you, Edgar Allan Poe, for my wakeup call this morning, I think, as I close the curtains again.  
  
Waking up a little more thoroughly, I test my body cautiously.  
  
I'm still a little stiff, but the bath, the night's rest and whatever is in the air of Amber have combined to make me feel almost human.  
  
Which is, of course, when the stress of the case hits me once again.  
  
I can't help wondering what new surprises are going to slap me across the face today?  
  
I can't help wondering what I'm going to do, now that I'm not sure whether or not I can use the firm's resources.   
  
Kalinda said that she'd arrange something, but I'm still not too sure how far I can trust her, how much of this is just a game to her.  
  
I'm certainly not going to stay around here all day, doing nothing, waiting for her or a messenger to turn up.  
  
First things first, though.  
  
I'm going to take advantage of the inn's glorious bathtub and running hot water once more before I leave.  
  
In far too short a time, though, I'm dressed and downstairs.  
  
As I pass the restaurant, the delicious scents wafting from the door make my stomach grumble, reminding me that I didn't have much to eat yesterday.  
  
Well, it isn't as though I have somewhere else to be right at the moment.  
  
I enter the room to see the same kind of people as the bar contained the night before.  
  
Including the woman dressed in red armour, sitting by herself at a table, pushing the remnants of her breakfast around on her plate.  
  
She's so out of place that there *has* got to be a story there.  
  
She looks up as I enter the room, and keeps her eyes fastened as I approach.  
  
"Hi. Do you mind if I sit down here?" I ask.  
  
She blinks, then gives me a smile, amusement radiating from her. "Sure," she says. In complete contrast to her appearance, she has a cut glass upper class Amber accent that wouldn't be out of place at a function in the castle. "I guess it'll make my job easier, anyway," she continues.  
  
It's my turn to look surprised. "Job?" I ask.  
  
Her eyes widen a little. "Oh," she says, then chuckles a little, shaking her head. "I thought you'd made me. Not that I'm trying to be inconspicuous exactly, but..." She clears her throat. "Let me try this again. I'm Ciara, formerly a captain of the Silver Blades. The General asked me to stay here last night, just in case there was any trouble."  
  
"The General?"  
  
"Princess Kalinda," she clarifies, and my stomach twists a little.  
  
"She couldn't have mentioned that she was setting me up with a detail?" I snap.  
  
Of *course* it was Kalinda being high handed and arrogant and...  
  
She shrugs, seemingly unaffected by my tone. "I believe the plan was to brief you today." She smirks a little. "Not that you gave her much chance to mention it last night."  
  
Of course she'd have seen that. "And I suppose you think that was amusing, too."  
  
The smirk widens. "Not nearly as amusing as when I did it to her," she says a little nostalgically.  
  
My thought process grinds to a halt. "When you did it to *her*?"  
  
"It was back during the war, a little while after she first arrived in Amber. She'd just led a successful raid on the enemy, and had shut herself in her rooms, already planning the next three. Personally, I thought she needed to unwind before she snapped, and I managed to convince her to come out and celebrate, to try out the wide selection of alcohol Amber has to offer."  
  
"What happened?" I ask. The thought of a younger Kalinda, actually letting her mask down a little, intrigues me.  
  
"She was a lot more stubborn than you. She managed most of the line before throwing up all over the table." Ciara looks into the distance, and her smile turns fond. "Then she accused me of picking the vilest combinations possible, with malice aforethought, and decked me." She smiles, and rubs her jaw. "Good times."  
  
It's hard to imagine Kalinda doing anything like that now. "And did you? Deliberately pick the worst drinks in combination?"  
  
"Of course I did. When else was I going to get an opportunity like that?" Her amusement fades a little. "Not that I got another chance, anyway. The war intensified, got closer to Amber, and, well." She shrugs.  
  
"Hasn't it been over fifteen years since the war ended?"  
  
"The General excels at finding things to do."  
  
My brain fastens onto something else. "So Princess Kalinda wasn't raised in Amber?"  
  
She shakes her head. "She was brought here as an adult, during the war," she says. "Different customs. It's why I managed to convince her to let me into the army. That and my natural talent," she adds modestly.  
  
The waiter approaches and asks, "Would you like to order anything, ma'am?"  
  
I nod, and order a full breakfast. I wouldn't normally order so much, but I've doubtless got a full day ahead and my stomach chooses to remind me again of its general displeasure.  
  
After ordering, Ciara and I start chatting again. She's surprisingly easy to chat to - I don't have to think twice or three times before saying anything, and, right now, that seems almost heavenly.  
  
It's easier, too, with the additional context about last night.   
  
Easier to forgive, a little.  
  
A shared experience is somehow different to something designed to humiliate an outsider.  
  
Not that I have to like my client - I imagine quite a few of them I'll sincerely detest - but...  
  
But it's easier if I don't.  
  
I try to make a few further inquiries about Kalinda, but Ciara parries them effortlessly, making them about her and her experiences.   
  
I learn that she's the eldest daughter of a baron, that a marriage had been arranged for since before she could remember, to a man a few centuries her senior.   
  
That she'd seen no possibility of escape, before the war came. Not that a woman becoming a soldier had been a real possibility, no matter how much she practised, before Kalinda's arrival.   
  
That, with the majority of her aunts and uncles gone to take the war to the enemy, Kalinda had stuck her heels in, and stubbornly recruited any women who were interested and competent, overturning millennia of tradition.  
  
Ciara doesn't talk about what had happened with her family after she'd gotten her commission, but she always talks about them in the past tense. And she doesn't talk about a husband, just an ex-fiancé.  
  
I try not to pry, just listen, make the appropriate responses and, when my meal arrives, eat.  
  
Before I know it, there's an empty plate in front of me, and Ciara is asking, "I hate to stop boring you with my life story, but would you mind awfully if we leave now? The General and the rest of the team are doubtless waiting for us at your new office."   
  
"Rest of the team? New office?" I can't help getting a little tight lipped over more high-handedness from the princess.  
  
She quirks her head. "I believe you made a request to the General yesterday?" Oh, right. "And as regards the rest of the team? Trust me, you're in for a treat."  
  
And from Ciara, the person who has spent the last hour interspersing stories about her past with tales of her somewhat quirky humour, that sounds less than entirely encouraging.  
  
Great.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My wife, Louisa (beta and writer), and I are going to be interviewed on the Femslash4Fans live internet radio show on Sunday 24th February. It's going to be starting at 10pm UK time/5pm EST/2pm PST. More details, and the podcast after it has aired can be found [here](http://www.blogtalkradio.com/allaine). There will be questions about various of the fandoms we've written for, including this story.

The carriage that comes for us is a thing of beauty.

Well, not literally - it looks like any of the other carriages I've seen around the city.

But it's a *carriage* which a) means that I won't have to walk to wherever we're going and b) hopefully won't tax my bruised bones too much.

Ciara, on the other hand, is regarding it with a look of quiet resignation that swiftly turns to amusement as she glances in my direction.

"You look like you've had a religious experience," she notes.

I flash her a sour look as we walk towards it.

"That's easy for you to say. You didn't spend an hour yesterday riding on a hellbeast with Prince Julian."

Now that I'm close enough to look inside, I can see that the seats appear to be comfortably appointed with soft fabric.

I take back almost every bad thought I've had about the princess.

I'm so caught up in my contemplation of the material that I almost miss Ciara's quizzical expression.

"The Prince took you for a ride on Morgenstern?"

"What?"

She raises a hand quite some distance above her head. "Horse about this high, dead white eyes. You'd know him if you'd seen him."

I can feel my eyes widen a little at the thought of being on top of something that big. "No, not *that*. Just an ordinary horse he borrowed from the city guard."

I open the door, and have to jump a little to make it inside. Luckily, the seats prove to be just as soft as they looked from the outside, and I sink onto one with a sigh.

Ciara gives a single laugh as she climbs in after me. "I did wonder for a moment. Prince Julian isn't exactly known for giving rides on Morgenstern. But hellbeast is an apt description as any for that creature."

The carriage lurches into motion.

"Speaking of Prince Julian, there's obviously history between him, Prince Corwin and Princess Kalinda, which might come up in the case. If I'm not going to be blindsided by the other side, I'm going to need to know as much as possible." And asking Ciara seems a lot safer than asking Kalinda.

She gives me a considering look. "I can tell you what's generally known. You'll have to ask the General about the rest."

"That's a lot more than I know at the moment."

"Very well. The General and Julian are known to be close. She spends a fair amount of time in Arden, and they share a lot of support, politically. Neither of them favours the Queen's policies of allowing the people from Chaos more access to Amber." She pauses for a moment, then continues, in a careful tone, "Over the centuries, there have been a lot of rumours that Prince Julian 'favours' his sister, the General's mother, Empress Fiona. There are some rumours that the General may be their child, despite the fact that she doesn't resemble him at all. And there are other rumours that, having failed to woo the mother, he has settled on pursuing, even catching, the daughter."

I... honestly have nothing I can say, or even think, about that. 

Any of that. 

Thinking back on it, *maybe* Julian and Kalinda had *something* that could possibly be interpreted as a father and daughter relationship.

But lovers? Even just by rumour?

Ciara is being cautious, but in a matter of fact kind of way.

And I'm reminded again of how alien Amber can be at times.

I try to keep my face as expressionless as possible, but from the way Ciara is looking at me, I'm not entirely successful.

"I'm not telling you because I believe it to be true. I don't even know if it'll be important. But you asked."

She's right - true or not, these kinds of rumours can colour a listener's perceptions. And with only one person, one man undoubtedly, who's going to be important, I need to be able to plan around this sort of situation.

Lord knows how I'm going to ask my client the truth of these kinds of allegations if it does turn out to be important, though.

As I'm sorting through what's she's told me, one thing does leap out. "Princess Kalinda's mother - you mentioned that she was an Empress?"

One thing I've noticed in the time I've been here is that to citizens of Amber, only Amber titles are important. Julian is Lord of Arden because it's considered a protectorate of Amber. But, unless I've gravely misunderstood things, Empress is a higher title than Queen.

"Of Chaos," Ciara clarifies. "Apparently that's how things worked out after the war. Officially, Fiona didn't become ruler through conquest, but through being the chosen of some local deity. Unofficially," she shrugs, "I know the General for one is a little more sceptical."

"So Kalinda is the crown princess of Chaos as well as a princess of Amber?"

"I wouldn't put it to her like that, but yes. Officially."

"And she's against people from Chaos being allowed in Amber?"

Ciara quirks a smile. "I've *got* see her face when she hears that line of argument, but yes. Neither she nor her mother are actually from Chaos, though. And as far as I know, she hasn't ever actually visited the place."

"Why does she dislike people from Chaos?"

Ciara's face shuts down. "You'll have to ask her that."

It probably isn't that important.

"So, what's between Kalinda and Corwin?"

"As far as I can tell, mostly just a generalised dislike. Corwin is fairly old school - he's known for thinking that, as regards power, the princesses are 'neither interested nor fit'. This does not overly endear him to the General. Worse, they both draw support from similar sections of society in their opposition to influences from Chaos, and she's the main other royal in those circles."

"Traditionalists?" I ask, and she nods. "Wouldn't those kinds of people naturally support a man over a woman?"

"They would, yes. But Corwin disappeared for several centuries and when he returned, shortly before the start of the war against Chaos, he and one of his brothers led an assault against Amber, trying to take the throne for himself. A not inconsiderable number of the nobility lost relatives in that battle."

I blink. "Why is he now the captain of the city guard? Why is he not in *chains*?"

"He did spend some time in the dungeons. I'm not sure of the details, but he turned up again a few years later, in the middle of a battle with Chaos. A battle in which the then king of Amber, his brother Eric, whom he hated, died. Coincidentally. Apparently he was then welcomed back into the bosom of the family. Certainly Florimel, upon ascension to the throne, granted clemency to all her kin for any and all actions that they confessed to."

"But some of the people of Amber aren't quite so forgiving?" And suddenly some comments from the judge yesterday made more sense. "Including Kyvale?"

Ciara loses the smile that's she's had ever since we started this conversation. "He lost a son that day."

I wonder if she knew him.

"So a part of the reason behind these charges might be political?"

"Maybe. Certainly, if he can prove that he has power over her, then her standing will be damaged, and his own prestige enhanced. And if the punishment is that she is banished from the realm for a number of years, that'll remove his main political competitor."

"What if she's imprisoned? Or even executed?"

Both punishments on the books for common treason.

Ciara blinks. "I can't... No judge would hand out that kind of punishment to a member of the royal family."

"Possibly not. But she is being tried as a noble."

And I can't help thinking that Queen Florimel would rid of one problematic family member. 

Though possibly strengthening an even more troublesome one in the process.

I wish that I knew what her stakes were in this.

Ciara sucks on her lower lip. "You think this is a possibility?"

"I can't discount it."

She looks determined. "I'll talk the General when I see her, and make sure that she is actually taking this seriously."

"She wasn't before?" 

She looks at me for a second, then shrugs. "With the General, it can be a little hard to tell. But she didn't bring us in until she was arrested. And that could be-," she hesitates, then settles on, "For a number of reasons." She pauses for a moment more, then a truly wicked smile crosses her face. "Actually - Heh. I've been waiting twenty five years to make her eat those words."

I raise a quizzical eyebrow in her direction.

"First thing that happened when I petitioned her to join the army. 'Being a noble won't help you here,'" Ciara says in a fair imitation of Kalinda's voice.

"Sweet, sweet revenge?"

"Absolutely." Then her face falls a little exaggeratedly. "Though it would probably work better coming from you," she says a little mournfully.

I eye her sceptically. "Really?"

She nods. "Tell her... tell her that she can't rely on her royal status protecting her from these charges."

"There's no risk that she'll kill me for this?"

Ciara shakes her head. "'If I didn't want to know what you thought, you wouldn't be working for me,'" she says in another imitation. "Though if you're that worried, I could be standing nearby," she says in a hopeful tone, smiling winningly.

"Could you stop her?"

"Well, no. But I'd like to be there when you tell her that. And, for as long as I've known her, she hasn't been the type to kill the messenger."

"You really think telling her this will get her to take this case seriously?"

"I think it's got a fairly good shot."

I consider.

Well, on the one hand, having my client's full support would be useful...

On the other, pissing off a member of the royal family isn't exactly supposed to be conducive to a long life.

I hesitate, then think of last night, Kalinda watching me, coolly amused as I made a fool of myself.

I nod. "I'll hold you responsible for anything that happens, though."

"It will be my pleasure."

"So, finally, what's the deal between Julian and Corwin?"

"Part of it is a series of slights and incidents that go back centuries. Part of it," she says, then hesitates, "Julian was King Oberon's left hand. His torturer. The person he relied on to do the dirty work. His monster."

Corwin's words, aimed at Kalinda, suddenly make a lot more sense. And also why everyone kept on going pale when Julian approached.

"And when Corwin was captured after his assault on Amber, Julian put his eyes out personally."

I feel a bit faint. And then...

"But when I saw him yesterday, he had eyes." Unless they were fake. But I could have sworn that he could see.

"The royal family are known to have many powers. Maybe healing is one of them. But I was there when Corwin's eyes were burned out - it was at King Eric's coronation. I heard the sizzle myself."

I suddenly see why Corwin might be suspected of his brother's death.

And, of course, Kalinda's association with Julian presumably does little to redeem her in Corwin's eyes.

Bad pun really not intended.

What a family.

"So," I say to Ciara, firmly changing the subject, "Does the princess know about your uncanny impressions of her?"

She looks shifty. "Not as far as I know. Why? Tell me you're not thinking of telling her."

I smile serenely at her. "I guess we'll have to find out."

 

The carriage pulls up to a large house somewhere in the upper echelon of the noble district. Whilst it doesn't precisely have grounds as such, there is a remarkable amount of space around it for a residence so close to the mountain. Constructed of the same grey stone as the wall of rock towering above it, it's of clearly solid construction, and looks like it could withstand a minor siege all by itself.

A raven croaks from its perch on the lintel above the main doorway.

"Is this the princess' residence?" I ask Ciara.

She snorts as she helps me from the carriage. "Not a chance. Royalty or no, she's only been in Amber a few decades. It's Prince Julian's - I imagine that he loaned it to us for the duration."

"Will he be in residence?"

"Not as far as I'm aware - and if he was, the general should have mentioned it to me," she says as she approaches the entrance. She gives the raven a jaunty wave, then knocks on the door loudly.

It silently opens almost as soon as she finishes to reveal Princess Kalinda.

"Don't you *have* a butler?" Ciara asks her in what I can't help feeling is a distinctively unmilitary way.

Kalinda gives her a flat look as Ciara ducks into the house, then turns her attention to me. "Hey," she says.

"Good morning, your highness," I say, but not in such a chill tone as I could have, or was even planning to use.

I see Ciara mouth 'Tell her,' over the top of Kalinda's head from where she's taken up position in a rather impressive hallway.

I glare briefly at her in what I hope is a quelling fashion.

"Your team is this way," Kalinda says, seeming to ignore all the byplay going on around her.

I don't even need to see Ciara to know that she's still urging me to tell Kalinda.

And maybe, maybe if she's kept such a clown as Ciara around, this won't go too badly.

Calm, I tell myself. This is just another client.

"Your highness," I say, "If I might have a private word?"

She makes a small hand gesture and Ciara twitches a little, like she's suppressing a salute, then disappears from the room.

But not before shooting me a disappointed look.

Clown.

"Go," Kalinda says to me.

"I'm aware that you may not be taking these charges completely seriously," I say, my tone rising to make the statement more of a question than I'd really like.

"I'm treating them with all the respect they're due."

Well that showed me.

Time to hope that Ciara really is right about the princess, I think, the anger coiling in my stomach almost balancing the fear.

"You do realise that you're being charged as a noble, your highness? That you could be imprisoned or even executed under these charges? That I'm not sure you can rely on your position as a princess of the royal family to protect you?"

And that last shot gets a reaction. Kalinda looks like she's been slapped, briefly, before her face returns to its normal mask.

Still, it's a moment before she replies.

"I see."

I see? 

*That's* the reaction I get?

Annoyance and relief battle for supremacy inside of me. Before one side or the other can claim victory, Kalinda continues. "Your team is this way," she says in a tone that's even more clipped than usual.

She leads me towards the sound of an argument in progress, into what looks like it's a dining room capable of holding twenty or more people, judging from the size of the table in the middle of it. Currently it's holding four, six once we enter.

The first person to draw my attention is an aristocratic looking man with greying hair, dressed in purple clothes that look like they’re of fine quality. With one hand he's watering a potted plant that sitting in front of him on the table. With the other, he's making sharp, dismissive motions towards the woman sitting opposite him as he argues passionately with her.

She couldn't be more different. Short, heavyset with thick features and a weathered tan, she looks almost like the quintessential farmer's wife. The only things that set her apart from that mould are her hair, dyed crimson, and the cold, dead eyes that look completely unmoved by the man opposite her. Her words are carefully considered, affectless and cutting.

Ciara has taken up a seat on the table itself a little way up from these two, looking like she's refereeing their argument. There's an expression of long-suffering amusement on her face.

And, in the background, there's a man dressed in servant's clothing, standing attentively by one door. I almost take him for the near obligatory servant present in most houses of wealth in Amber, but something about him seems familiar. With a shock, I realise that I'm fairly sure he's the man who was cleaning the floor my room was on at the inn last night. As our eyes meet, he nods to me.

Kalinda does something - I'm not entirely sure what - and suddenly the ever-present gleam of amusement disappears fromCiara's eyes, leaving her a model of cool professionalism. She slaps the table with one hand, the crack cutting the argument off mid-word, and uses the impact to push herself to her feet and into a military looking posture.

"General," she says.

"Introduce the team."

Ciara focusses her attention on me. "I'm team lead. In addition to commanding your support staff, I'll be acting as your primary bodyguard and coordinating any physical support, if it turns out to be necessary. Also, as the person most familiar with Amber noble society, I'll be acting as a resource for you and for the rest of the team."

"This," she says, gesturing to the grey haired man, who inclines his head, "Is Gerren. He's a good researcher and has an interest in history. Though he isn't an Amber native, he does have contacts amongst the librarians, both in the castle and associated with several private collections. He's the nearest we've got to someone who knows Amber law - he doesn't know a lot at the moment, but he's good at learning quickly."

"Morrian," she says, indicating the woman, who remains motionless, not even blinking. "At the moment, she's mainly here to help me. She's a reconnaissance specialist, with some divinatory abilities. If you need to find one of us, or to keep track of someone, talk to her."

"Finally Thomas," she says, glancing towards the man leaning on the wall, "Is our primary investigator. As you may have noticed, he's fairly good at blending into the background. He's even better if he's had a chance to change his clothing," she adds with a touch of her usual humour.

"I want a word with Alicia," Kalinda says. "Privately."

Ciara blinks, then joins the general exodus.

Kalinda turns to just look at me for a moment, her face completely still.

This is it, I can't help thinking.

Whatever 'it' is.

For the first time since I found out who she is, I feel calm and unafraid in her presence.

Whatever is going to happen, will happen.

"It would seem that I owe you an apology," are the words that I was least expecting to issue from her lips.

"Oh?" I ask, unable to think of anything more articulate.

"I chose you to spite Corwin," she says frankly. "Corwin charged me. Corwin has been pushing his lawyers. Claims that they are impartial. So."

"You decided to put them to the test," I say. "But why choose me, of all people? Why not one of the partners?"

"If I lose the case, I claim prejudice. If my lawyer doesn't get the firm's full support, I claim prejudice."

I feel a little sick. "And it's much easier to get those outcomes if you choose the most junior associate."

"Pretty much," she says, her voice tight.

"Regardless of the effect this will have on the lawyer you choose," I say in a controlled tone, only a hair away from screaming at her.

Do you know what your games have cost me?

Do you even *care*?

"How were you going to be paid?" she asks. "Money? Power? A paradise world?"

I shut my eyes, no longer even able to look at her. "My children," I whisper, hot tears starting to leak past my eyelids.

Damn her.

"Hey," she says, sounding abruptly softer than I've ever heard her. "Hey," she repeats. "What do you mean?"

And maybe it's the sudden change in her demeanour.

Maybe it's the stress I've been under.

And maybe it's just that I need to talk to *someone* and Will isn't here.

But I tell her, tell her the whole sorry story.

And she holds me as, still unable to look her in the face, I can't help breaking down, just a little bit.

Enough for tears, but not to cry. 

Never to cry.

And I can't help hating her for seeing me like this.

As she's supporting me, after, she says, "So, what do you want to happen to your ex-husband?"

I blink, and focus on her for the first time, since... since. "What?" I ask, my voice rasping.

"What do you want to happen to your ex-husband?" she repeats. "After you've got your children back."

I stare at her.

"You’re right. I owe you. I'll make sure you get your kids back. Regardless of anything else," she says, then offers me a slight smile with a hint of uncertainty about it. "In the mean time, if you're up for it, I'd still like to retain you as my lawyer."

I just keep on looking at her, utterly speechless.

No matter what I'd been expecting, it hadn't been this.

She shrugs, one shouldered. "You're competent," she says, answering a question I hadn't asked. "I respect that."


	7. Chapter 7

It's not easy to come back into the room after almost breaking down like that, but I give it my best shot anyway.

A fresh coat of makeup to paper over the cracks and a few minutes staring into the mirror, telling myself that I will not break, I will *not* break.

It helps.

A bit.

Having something to concentrate on is also a boon, granted.

When I make my way back into the meeting slash dining room, the full brigade are assembled once again, seated much as before, only now with Kalinda perched in the background, much like a raven. 

Or a hawk, ready to dive.

She spares me a brief glance, then returns to eyeing the others.

Ciara stands up from the table, her expression much as before. I can't help searching it for pity, but either she doesn't know or she's a better liar than I thought.

"So, now that you know the brief version of what we can do, what can Absolutely do for you?"

"'Absolutely'?" I have to enquire.

"Absolutely No Gravitas Here," she replies, grinning a little.

Kalinda has absolutely no expression on her face. Thomas is smirking, whilst Gerren looks like he's bitten into a lemon.

Possibly surprisingly, it's Morrian who adds a note of explanation. "She thinks she's being funny," she says, in a flat voice, then looks consideringly in Kalinda's direction.

Kalinda, sphinx-like, doesn't appear to indicate anything to my eyes.

But apparently that's enough, because Morrian looks back towards me and shrugs. "She likes to give all of our teams a name."

'Our teams'? What organisations do they belong to?

Maybe a military unit? 

Ciara consistent referrals to Kalinda as a general might indicate that. 

On the other hand, they could just refer to their shared history.

Maybe something private? 

Maybe they're just in Kalinda's service. Maybe they're like us, the firm, in a prince's employ. 

Or, in this case, a princess.

Though, at the least, with a distinctly military air.

In any case, it really isn't my business.

Still...

"Absolutely No Gravitas Here?" I can't help asking.

Gerren twitches again, looking like he'd bitten into another sour fruit.

Ciara attempts to look innocent, though the twinkling in her eyes gives her away more than a little. She shrugs. "Gerren has complained, in the past, that some of the names I assign... lack a certain gravitas."

"Thus dooming any team he is a part of to be named some childish play on words involving gravitas," Morrian adds.

Ciara bestows a beatific smile upon her. "I love you too, oh mistress of my eyes."

"Apart from anything else," Gerren says, breaking in. "It's inefficient. I thought the point of these designations was to make the teams more individual, so we could remember them better. So the names actually *mean* something. I hardly think that yet another play on the same theme helps that."

"I don't know," Ciara says. "I never have a problem with getting confused between them. Lacking. Sincere. Even. Maybe. Hidden. They're all fairly clear in *my* mind. Maybe it's just you that has a problem?" she suggests innocently.

Gerren goes a little red, and starts blustering in some length about the inadequacies of relying on Ciara's whimsy when it comes to proper organisation. About how names have power, and they should not be used lightly, not lightly at all.

It really shouldn't be funny, but he so very obviously takes himself so very seriously that all of a sudden I have a real problem keeping my composure.

It's... 

After everything in the last few days, the stress culminating in my humiliating almost breakdown in front of a client, it's just what I need.

I excuse myself for a moment, and go to the bathroom once again. This time, though, when I catch sight of myself in the mirror, the tightly suppressed mirth, I can't help cracking up and laughing at the circus I've just left behind.

Everything may not be better, not by a long shot.

But it feels much more manageable now.

After I finish snickering, I brush myself off and return to the meeting room once again. As I enter, still mid argument, Kalinda catches my eye and raises an eyebrow.

I give her a small smile and her face relaxes, just a little.

Okay.

We do actually have a job to do here.

I clear my throat, and say, forcefully, through the furore, "As educational as this discussion is..."

The room falls silent. 

Almost suspiciously quickly, in fact.

I decide to ignore that, and continue. "Okay, here's what I'd like to know right now..."

 

The first few days go quickly. 

Gerren helps me research case law at the castle library. He proves to have a keen mind and an eye for names, managing to untangle all kinds of connections between various important figures that I would never have found by myself. At the same time, he manages to somehow avoid the delicate lines of logic that actually make up the law and, whenever I bring that up, dismisses such things as utterly unimportant and beneath him.

It's hard to know whether to be envious of his talent, laugh at his pretensions or throw books at his ego.

He'd fit right in at a university, though. 

Ciara makes a point of sticking with me whenever I leave the house and is a surprisingly good source of background information on the various noble cases. She also manages to act as social lubricant between Gerren and I, defusing the atmosphere with a joke whenever I start semi-seriously looking for a book. Or possibly when he is - he's not nearly as good at logical arguments as he thinks he is.

I don't see much of Morrian, apart from at the mansion where she seems to always be. 

Thomas seems to have just disappeared, and Ciara is frustratingly vague when I ask about him.

And Kalinda...

Kalinda vanishes too. And when I ask Ciara, she just looks at me speculatively, and says, "She mentioned something about some business she had to take care of. I don't suppose you'd know anything about that?"

I hesitate for a moment.

During my... little episode... she'd said certain things.

But, afterwards, she hadn't said anything else, and I'd just thought...

I hadn't let myself hope. *Couldn't* let myself hope.

Still can't, if I want to keep my mind on this case, and not go insane from wondering.

"She didn't say anything to me," I finally settle on. "Do you have a way to contact her if we really need to?"

It's Ciara's turn to hesitate, but then she shrugs. "Sure. I'd have Morrian contact Prince Julian, and let him get in touch with her. If it were that urgent. And it'd pretty much have to be - the General may be friendly with him, but the prince isn't known to be soft on timewasters."

I nod. Having to go through Prince Julian isn't great, but it's better than nothing.

"And nice attempted deflection," Ciara adds. "She may not have said anything to you, but do you suspect something anyway?"

I feel my face freeze. I *can't* talk about this with *anyone*, not even someone as offbeatly friendly as Ciara.

"What I do know is that if the princess had wanted you to know, she'd have told you herself."

Ciara's smile doesn't exactly disappear, but it does change, become, if anything, a little impressed. "You're right. It's none of my business."

I let it go at that, and get back to business; try to bury the questions.

It's not important. 

It *can't* be important right now.

I've got a job to do.

And it isn't until much later that I manage to be grateful to Kalinda from hiding my... indisposition from even Ciara.

 

Three days after that, I get up shortly after dawn breaks. After my usual preparations, and fortified by the chill water I had to use (no running hot water here) I make my way to the dining area, to find Kalinda propping herself up against a wall, talking quietly with Ciara.

I can't help feeling a twist of completely unwarranted disappointment that she's alone.

They both look around as I enter. Ciara gives me a smile. Kalinda settles for a nod.

"Good morning," I say to them both, and resist the urge to quiz Kalinda on where she's been, whether it's had anything to do with...

I try to drag my mind away from wondering too much.

It'll only exacerbate the hurt left by their absence.

Besides I've got a job to do here.

And the first order of the day is breakfast.

I make my way over to the pantry and retrieve a jug of cream and an assortment of fresh fruit, which I start chopping up on the counter.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

I concentrate on the motion of the blade so as to avoid listening in on the conversation behind me.

I've diced... possibly a little too much fruit when I reach for the next piece, and realise that there's isn't another. I put the knife down.

"Hey," says Kalinda's voice from close behind me.

I jump a little and turn around, to see her smiling slightly at me.

"Don't *do* that!"

She shrugs. "I waited until you'd disarmed yourself, didn't I?"

I give her a glance to let her know that she's far from forgiven. But I can't maintain the contact, not without the questions bubbling within me spilling out, so I turn back to the counter and quickly and neatly start arranging the pieces of fruit in a bowl.

"So..." I say before my throat locks up.

"We have a trial date," Kalinda says. "We have a couple of weeks."

It should be enough time. I probably could push for a delay, but it's not really that kind of case.

And I just want it over, for many different reasons.

"Do we know who the judge is yet?" I manage to ask.

"Not yet. Ciara's going to have Thomas look into it."

I run out of fruit to organise, and stand there at the bowl for a moment.

It's a perfect arrangement, just like I used to do for the kids.

I haven't let myself think about them, not like this, for months.

But the hope, the barest hint of hope, is enough to bring it back all over again.

I reach for the jug of cream and pour it into the bowl, the splashing breaking up the uncomfortable silence.

There's movement out of the corner of my eye, and I see that Kalinda has shifted position so she's leaning against the side, a few feet away from me. 

If she only arrived back this morning, I really can't tell. She's immaculately put together, not a hair out of place.

And she's looking at me with wide, dark eyes so full of secrets.

"Hey," she says again and passes me an envelope. 

Inside are two pictures, one of Zach, one of Grace. They're smiling at the person taking the picture, and they're so, so perfect I can't say anything for a moment.

"Oh," I manage at last. "Oh. They're older. They look so much older than I remember."

"It's been over a year for them," Kalinda says, almost apologetically. "Time runs faster in your world than it does here."

"Will didn't- I mean, I wasn't told about that."

At least I think I hadn't been. Back then I had been so desperate, so eager for any chance, anything at all, I might have agreed to anything.

Possibly not the most auspicious start to a career as a lawyer, granted, but...

"They miss you," Kalinda says, a little awkwardly. "I would have brought them back with me, but things aren't quite in place yet."

"Is everything going well?"

"Yeah. You could say that. You should be getting them back any day."

It feels like all the air leaves my body, and I almost collapse against the side.

"Thank you. Just... thank you." I look up at her. "Peter's fine?"

"His ego's going to take a battering. But otherwise? Yeah."

And, suddenly, I'm smiling. For the first time since... since all this started, I'm really smiling.

Everything is going to be fine.

And it's all thanks to Kalinda.

For a moment, a split second, her lips quirk back at me.

Then she pushes herself up to a standing position and disappears out of the door.

"Eat up," is the last thing she says. "Going to be a busy day."

 

Kalinda's words are either prophetic, or she knows more than she shared with me, because not more than half an hour later there's a knocking at the door.

Ciara - acting not exactly worried, but *alert* in a way that leaves only a remnant of her usual smile - goes to answer it.

"Alicia," she calls after a moment. "You better come here. I think this is your department."

I emerge into the entranceway to see a man in the garb of an Amber clerk, accompanied by two of the city guard. He has a piece of paper in his hand. He raises his eyebrows as I approach.

"And who might you be, madam?" he asks.

"Alicia Cavanaugh, Princess Kalinda's lawyer. Is this for her?"

He nods. "I'll need to see that she receives it personally."

This doesn't have the form of a court date. "What is this about?" I ask, not answering his question, not inviting him in.

He hesitates for a moment, then his eyes focus behind me with an expression of relief. "Ah, your highness."

I twist around to see that Kalinda has slid into the hallway without any noise or fanfare.

I school my expression to hide the exasperation I'm feeling I'm feeling. 

A few days ago, it would probably have been irritation, but now...

The princess does as the princess does.

Even if the first rule of being a lawyer is that the client should interact with the legal system as little as possible and as in controlled circumstance as possible.

And this is not exactly controlled.

But the second rule is that the client will always mess up the first, so I turn back towards the clerk expectantly.

He hands her the slip of paper, saying, "The city has requested and received a ban on you leaving the city before the trial date. If you are found to do so, you will be charged and sentenced appropriately."

The fact that a *clerk* is doing this jars more than a little. But this is Amber, not the US.

Kalinda, seemingly completely unfazed, just accepts the slip and nods.

The clerk and guards bow to her, then leave.

Ciara shuts the door, then leans against it, watching the both of us.

You're a professional, Alicia, I think and take a breath.

"I can contest this," are my first words. "They didn't alert us that they were seeking an injunction, and that's got to be illegal."

Kalinda reads through the letter, then hands it to me without saying a thing.

It's pretty much pro forma, until I reach the bottom. In addition to being signed by the judge, it's also signed by the Queen's Counsel.

It means that the Queen is supporting this ban, and there is effectively no chance of getting it appealed.

"Guess I'll be sticking around," Kalinda says.

It might not always be smooth running with her around, but I find myself hard pressed to mind overly.

 

"Judge Adair will be trying the case," Kalinda's voice says from behind me, making my heart leap into my throat.

I take a moment to calm myself, then carefully place a bookmark in the journal I'm currently studying and turn around, doing my best to look calm and unaffected.

Kalinda's face is far too close, and the glint in her eyes doesn't do much to reassure me that I managed to pull my act off.

"I thought Thomas was supposed to be looking into that."

"He was. I looked into it myself," she says, swaying backwards to rest against a bookcase. "Since I had the time," she adds in response to my raised eyebrows.

"Is finding things out one of your talents?" I can't help asking.

She smirks a little. "It's a hobby."

So.

Adair.

Great.

I already know from my research that a lot of the landmark decisions have been made by him. And I mean a *lot*. There're judgements that, if I've interpreted the dates correctly, are almost a thousand years old that bear his seal. From his writing, he seems to be the kind of conservative that's happy with the old status quo because he was one of the ones that helped shape it.

I haven't looked at the relevant cases, but I can't imagine that he's happy about the changes that the queen has introduced. 

Or, quite probably, that there is a queen at all.

"Do you want to find another lawyer?" At Kalinda's questioning look, I add, "A man might do better. I doubt he's going to appreciate a woman speaking for you in court."

She studies me for a moment. "Are you resigning?"

I have to think for a moment. 

Should I? There have got to be better lawyers at Lockhart, Gardner and Stern, even trustworthy ones.

Hell, Cary would probably kill for this kind of opportunity.

And me? I'm just returning to this business.

It's times like this that I can feel the missing years most keenly.

But...

"No."

"Good. You stay, then. What's your plan of attack?"

"I need to know more specifics about his style. What he likes, how I can avoid pissing him off. For instance, I know that he's a noble from the times when every one of Oberon's lords was expected to be an expert in battle. Would bringing up the fact that you defended Amber help or hinder? That kind of thing."

She nods. "I'll try to pull some favours. See if I can get someone to talk to you."

Adair. Christ.

I can only imagine that Corwin was overjoyed with this decision. 

Someone who favours the old order. Outside of a clear partisan, I can't imagine anyone who would suit his purposes better.

What is the queen trying to say with this?

Kyvale had been a clear rebuke, telling him that he'd overstepped his bounds.

But this? The same day her Counsel put her authority behind an order to confine Kalinda to Amber, snuck past without even giving us a chance to object?

"You haven't done anything to annoy the queen, have you?" I ask Kalinda.

"Far as I know, I've been remarkably good recently. Though I am starting to wonder myself."

"Would it be worth asking her?"

"I doubt it." Her eyes flash momentarily, before she conceals them beneath heavy lids, and her body goes from lazy-casual to the laziness of a lioness before she strikes. "Maybe I should be more productive with my spare time." She somehow manages to make the words sound like a threat than a statement of intent.

"If you could avoid making the case any more difficult than it already is, I would *greatly* appreciate it," I say, trying to catch her eyes and give her what support I can.

She stays still, just watching me for a moment and then the tension bleeds from her body. "Unicorn forfend that I complicate your life any further," she says sardonically, but the worst of the darkness seems to have passed.

"Oh, I wouldn't go so far as to ask that," I tell her cheerfully enough. "You *are* my client after all."

"Been spending too much time with Ciara?"

"You *were* the one who assigned her to be my constant companion."

"A decision I'm regretting already."

"Well, as nice as seeing you has been, I've now got to do more research on Adair's style and I believe you were going to look into finding me someone to speak to."

She pushes herself to her feet. "I better get to it," she says. "See you around, Ms Cavanaugh."

I smile briefly at her. "See you around..." I almost add princess, but something makes me stop and add, "Kalinda," instead.

She shoots me a cryptic look, but doesn't correct me, just nods and heads off between the shelves.

Now, where did I put that list of judges' opinions that I've been compiling?


	8. Chapter 8

"The queen is certainly making a point. Even if I'm not quite sure what that point is," I say across the dining table that night.

Kalinda arches an eyebrow, whilst Ciara is the actual one that says, "Oh?" 

Morrian just stabs a piece of meat viciously with a fork, seemingly ignoring me.

Dinner back at the manor has become almost a thing in the week since I've been staying there. At least for Ciara, Morrian and me. 

Gerren sometimes joins us, more often not, and Thomas is almost never around in the first place.

Ciara and I take turns cooking. Ciara hasn't asked Morrian to take a turn, and I've followed her lead. 

Not that she eats much of what we cook anyway. Morrian prefers her meat rare and well hung, and forces down just enough vegetables to stave off scurvy.

And whether I'm cooking myself, or just watching Ciara do the honours, it's actually quite a good way to unwind after a day.

And now that she's back, it somehow doesn't surprise me that Kalinda has joined us, at least for tonight.

"You're not the first princess of Amber whose trial Adair has presided over," I elaborate.

Kalinda's eyebrow stays raised, but now there's a glint of real interest in her eyes. "Really?"

"A little over two centuries ago, Princess *Florimel* was tried under King's law for interfering in city politics, and found guilty. She was exiled from Amber and that wasn't repealed until after Eric took the throne, about thirty years ago." I take a drink of water and continue. "Adair was the judge on that case."

"Interfering in city politics?" Kalinda asks, the parallels having not escaped her.

"Quite," I say, and then we both turn to look in Ciara's direction.

She shrugs. "Hey, don't look at me. It was a little before my time. But I can ask around." She looks thoughtfully off into the distance. "She would have been around Random's age when it happened - a mere slip at only a few centuries old. I'm trying to imagine the queen as a rebellious bad girl..." She pauses for a moment, then scrunches up her face. "And it just isn't working for me."

The image seeps into my mind, despite my best efforts. The queen, in all her dignified glory, with her hair dyed black or pink, ripped jeans and a mutinous expression on her face.

I start giggling helplessly, which sets Ciara off, who had been manfully maintaining a straight face up until now. 

Even Kalinda smirks a little.

Only Morrian remains unaffected, pausing from spearing her latest chunk of meat to stare at us as if we're all mad.

Her expression helps my giggles not one jot.

Finally, I calm down. 

Though I'm really not sure how I'm going to face the Queen the next time I see her, even if the picture of Amber rebelliousness is likely far from what I'm picturing.

"What do you think it means?" Kalinda asks.

"I'm not entirely certain. There are probably nuances in how he was assigned to this case that I'm missing. But if I were him, I would definitely worry a little about handing out the same sentence this time."

"So you don't think I'm going to be indefinitely banished from Amber," she says a little sardonically.

"See. Good news," I say before returning to my meal.

She gives me a slight twitch of her mouth before she does the same.

 

Something wakes me up the next morning.

For a moment, that's all I know. Then I manage to place what I'm hearing - it's the sound of metal hitting metal.

Suddenly more awake, I sit bolt upright in bed, my breath catching in my throat.

It's... it's coming from the window.

I clamber to my feet, pushing myself out of bed, and carefully approach the thick curtains that are currently between me and the glass. 

As cautiously as I can. I create a small parting so I can view the world outside, scope whatever threat has assaulted the house.

It's... 

Damn them.

It's just Ciara and Kalinda. Though Ciara is doing an awfully good job of looking like she's trying to murder Kalinda. If not tremendously effectively.

As my pulse slows, I pause for a moment, taking the sight in.

Ciara's dressed in her crimson mail and is using a slightly curved sword with smooth, practical movements.

Kalinda... Kalinda looks like she woke up in an armoury this morning and grabbed the first things that came to hand. She's holding one long, straight sword, with another buckled at her waist, and has enough daggers and assorted sharp pieces of metal strapped to her that they probably count as armour themselves. In addition to the sturdy leathers she's wearing.

And despite all of that, her movements are almost soundless; fluid like a dancer, flowing around Ciara's strikes, returning ones that ooze through Ciara's embattled defences.

There's a sudden thunk, and one of the targets that are lining the perimeter of the courtyard sprouts a knife hilt.

It takes me a few seconds to retrace in my mind what happened. Whilst fighting off Ciara, Kalinda used the hand not currently occupied with a sword to draw and throw a knife in one smooth motion. 

With a fair amount of accuracy - the hilt is protruding from the face of the target, and it's a good twenty yards from Kalinda.

There's another thunk, and another target sprouts a handle.

The whole thing is almost hypnotic, and I get lost just trying to track the various movements - the attacks, the parries, the footwork.

Kalinda's offhand blurs for what must be the fifth or sixth time when it happens - Ciara takes advantage of the split in Kalinda's concentration to press her attack. 

Her sword gets close - almost too close - before she abruptly ends up on the floor, staring up at the sky.

She stays there for a moment, then grins. "I thought I might actually have you that time."

Kalinda shrugs. "I'm not responsible for your delusions. Keep a better eye on your feet next time. You're not on a horse at the moment."

Ciara bounces upwards. "Want to go another round?"

"Things to do," Kalinda replies, then looks up at my window. "Enjoy the display?"

I find myself wanting to blush, completely unaccountably. If they were going to mind being observed, they really shouldn't have chosen such a god-awful hour to start their practise.

It's a nonsense reaction, so I ignore it.

I open the curtains more fully, so they can see me better, and give Kalinda a shrug of my own.

"Alicia," says Ciara, smiling. "Fancy coming down here so we can give you a quick lesson?"

Kalinda shoots her a look, but doesn't say anything.

And I...

Oh hell. If I'm going to be stuck in this crazy world, I might as well learn how to wave a sword around as if I know how to use it.

"Sure," I mouth, then close the curtains to get dressed in something halfway appropriate.

I think it's official. I've gone as mad as the rest of them.

 

The view from the ground offers a few more details.

Ciara's flushed, drops of sweat still visible on her brow after the workout. Some time between when I left the window and when I arrived down here, she's retrieved a wooden practise sword.

Probably a wise idea. I'm not clumsy, but the idea of handling live steel doesn't exactly fill me with joy.

Kalinda, on the other hand, is as untouched and gorgeous as ever. If I didn't know better, I'd say that she had been doing nothing more strenuous than watching Ciara practise.

Ciara hums to herself, looking me up and down as I enter the courtyard.

"Is there a problem?" I ask a little defensively. 

I'd managed to retrieve one of my less used sweaters and an old pair of sweat pants from out of my belonging, and am feeling like I'm being reminded a little forcefully about how long it has been since I've exercised regularly.

I'm beginning to have second thoughts about this. 

Lord only knows what the obviously extremely fit women before me think of my body.

Ciara blinks. "Oh. I was just fitting you up mentally for some new practise clothes. Those look a little thin for the job."

"Oh," I say, untensing a little.

"It shouldn't be an issue this time - I'll just be taking you through some basic exercises - but it's something to consider for the future."

I can't help noticing that this has gone from a quick lesson to a training regimen already.

"I'm not sure I'm going to have the time to actually complete a course on swordplay," I say, unable to help being a little amused by Ciara's presumption.

I'm greeted with a smirk. "That's what they all say," Ciara says without bothering to elucidate who 'they' are. 

Surely not the military unit she used to head up. The collection of eclectic individuals she's now involved with seem the most likely candidates. The thought of Gerren being taught how to handle a sword is probably more amusing than it should be, though that may be more my conflation of him with those of Owen's colleagues that I've met.

"Stand like this," Ciara demonstrates. "No, move your right foot forward and tilt it to the left a little... that's it." She hands me the practise sword hilt first, then comes over and manipulates my grip until it's apparently satisfactory. She then starts taking me through a series of repetitious movements and swings.

They are, unsurprisingly, much harder to actually do than Ciara makes it look.

"Try using this," Kalinda's voice says from beside me.

I blink. The last time I caught a glimpse of her, she was across the courtyard, regarding us impassively.

And now she's beside me, offering me... the hilt of a dagger. 

And having managed to get this close without me noticing.

I *swear* she loves doing this to me. Specifically.

I pass the sword to my left hand, which immediately dips several inches, and take hold of the dagger. It's larger and heavier than a kitchen knife, but it's certainly going to be easier to use than the sword, which is already starting to cause aches in new and exciting muscles I didn't know that I had.

"Well, if you want to handle her lessons personally..." Ciara says, tailing off then shrugging. "Sure. I'm not exactly the expert with small blades," she says to me as an aside, deftly relieving me of the sword.

"Using a dagger requires a different stance, different exercises," Kalinda says, and leans in.

Rather than talking me through how to stand and how to move, like Ciara did, Kalinda seems to be going for a much more hands on approach.

Literally.

I'm not a touchy-feely kind of person, the contact doesn't quite manage to make to uncomfortable, but it is more than a little unsettling.

It's...

I can't help being intensely aware of her body.

Especially when she seems to feel that it's necessary to press it up against me, as she stands behind me and guides me through a few basic strikes.

And every time she breaths out, I can feel it all the way down my neck.

If we were on Earth, there's no way I'd allow this. It'd be intensely inappropriate. 

Hell, it'd be grounds for a sexual harassment suit.

Here...

Here it's probably just another crazy custom.

Or just possibly another way that my client is enjoying playing with my head.

Kalinda releases me, allowing me to think a little more clearly.

Rather than an 'or', maybe that should have been an 'and'.

I glance over towards her, and she tilts her head and makes a 'carry on' gesture. 

She's smirking slightly, but it doesn't feel malicious.

Yes, there should *definitely* have been an 'and' there.

 

The lessons continue, to my complete lack of surprise.

Though they do get substantially less flirtatious over time, somewhat to my relief.

I never feel anything less than clumsy in respect to her. Though she doesn't express any displeasure at my progress, it's a little hard to tell whether the encouragements she offers me are anything more than rote.

The rest of the days are spent with preparation for the fast approaching trial. I network with members of what passes for Amber's legal community, far higher echelon than any I'd managed to meet prior to this. I interview acquaintances and even friends of Adair, trying to get a feel for how to approach him and how not to.

It's a weird and unsettling experience. 

As far as I can tell, the facts seem to be fairly well established. 

The main variable left is how the judge decides to rule. And, so far, Kalinda has been unable to cast any light on any instructions the queen may have given him.

The queen, or her proxies, don't approach me during this time. 

Corwin and even the firm seem to be holding to the same unspoken truce.

Even Will.

The only things I have left, the only people who give even lip service to supporting me, are Kalinda and her people. 

And the promise that my kids will be returned to me, when this is all over, one way or another.

It's like I'm floating in space, with only a thin, almost insubstantial, tether anchoring me in place.

And all the while, the time to the trial is ticking down.

 

There's a knock at the door of the manor. A few minutes later I can hear Ciara answer it. Shortly after that, Ciara pops her head around the door of the study.

"There are some visitors who are definitely your department."

"Really?"

"They're legal types. Corwin's lot."

It's the day before the trial. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. If there are going to be some last minute shenanigans, this is certainly the time.

Ciara ushers in the same prosecutor that was my opposite number in the bail hearing. 

Huh.

I'm a little surprised that he hasn't been replaced. Maybe Corwin is more forgiving than I've heard.

Ciara quirks an eyebrow and mouths 'Do you want me to stay?'

I shake my head, and she disappears, closing the door behind her. Though, doubtless, she or someone else is listening in.

I get to my feet, and offer him my hand. "Alicia Cavanaugh. Pleased to meet you again."

He takes my hand and shakes it firmly. "Bran Garigher. Likewise."

I indicate a seat, and we both sit down. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm sure that you're aware of how things stand. The Queen has, well, indicated her position fairly clearly. She's appointed Adair, who is well known for cracking down upon ladies who interfere in matters above their station."

"I imagine that her feelings must quite mixed, considering *some* of that history."

He chuckles. "Quite. But the fact remains that the princess did interfere in a matter of state, and is more generally known for agitating politically in certain matters."

"Though she and Corwin do appear to agree on many of those same matters."

"To be precise, they disagree with certain policies of the Queen. Which brings us to our current state of affairs. It is quite clear that the Queen is using the opportunity of this trial to dispose of a troublemaker. For at least a few centuries. We don't want that to happen - the princess has done and does too much good for Amber."

"She may have appointed the judge," I note. "But you are the ones pressing the prosecution."

"Which is why it seems best for all sides if we come to terms before the trial."

"What terms?"

He purses his lips. "As much as it pains me, we can't simply dismiss the charges. There has been too much water under the bridge, too much done openly for that. The prince cannot lose that much face. But in return for a trifle, a nothing - a mere public apology from the princess to the prince - we'd be willing to pronounce ourselves satisfied."

This seems insanely good, *too* good terms. I narrow my eyes suspiciously. "*Nothing* else?"

He opens his hands wide. "On the Unicorn's Horn. After much persuasion, the prince has come to see that the princess acted in the best interests of Amber, if unorthodoxly, and just wants to avoid creating a precedent for this kind of behaviour."

There are obviously deeper waters here.

Maybe Kalinda will have a better idea.

Or maybe she'll even just accept the deal.

"I'll consult with my client and get back to you." I get to my feet again.

"Thank you, Madam Cavanaugh. I only ask that we hear today. Once the trial starts, honour will demand that we carry it forwards, regardless of our preferences."

Yes, I'm definitely being hustled here. Though I'm still not sure of the hook.

I just hope I can get hold of Kalinda before the deadline expires.


	9. Chapter 9

"No," says Kalinda.

Well, that's slightly more succinct than I had been hoping for.

And it had all been going so well up until now.

 

After we see the prosecutor and his guard out, I turn towards Ciara.

"I don't suppose that you know where Kalinda is at the moment?"

Ciara shrugs. "She's never been one to give me an itinerary, sadly. But Morrian might be able to tell us. She likes to keep an eye on the situation."

I almost ask if she knows where *Morrian* is - I never see her around except at meals - but she's already off. 

I follow behind, not entirely certain about whether I'm invited on this little excursion. She doesn't tell me otherwise, so I guess I am.

We head up the stairs, then up again. After navigating what I thought was the top floor, Ciara opens a door to reveal another, small, staircase I hadn't even known was there.

Up that set of stairs leads to the attic, which is surprisingly well lit, by a series of large windows, despite being filled with a large number of objects covered in white sheets. No dust on anything near me though - which either points to magic or simply that they'd put been put up here when the house was being prepared for Kalinda's use. One of the vertical walls is purely taken up by what look like hunting trophies. A vast array of creature heads (and other, less identifiable, parts) from legend and nightmare. Also what looks like a mounted fender from a large car, with teeth marks puncturing the metal.

There's probably a story there, but I forbear from asking Ciara about it.

She leads me through the maze and opens a door I hadn't noticed. Outside is a small patio in the middle of the roof, the main feature of which should be the mews.

I say should be, because the first thing that strikes me is the birds.

Large, black birds. Perching on almost every available surface.

And they all turn to look at us as we make ourselves visible.

Ciara seems unfazed by this remake of The Birds, and strides over to where Morrian is sitting cross-legged on the patio.

I, on the other hand, am occupied with the pecked carcass lying to one side. As I watch, a raven flaps in from elsewhere, and settles on it, tearing some meat from the bones with its beak.

It's all too vividly easy to imagine that beak being turned on me.

The body is probably just a side of meat from the kitchen.

Probably.

"Morrian!," Ciara calls. As I turn back to look at them, grateful for the distraction, I see her waving a hand in front of Morrian's face. "*Sweetie*," she continues just as loudly.

Morrian's eyes flick open. She moves her head jerkily, taking in Ciara and me, before turning to look at Ciara inquiringly.

"We need to find the General."

Morrian looks blank for a moment, then nods. She raises a hand imperiously, and Ciara helps her to her feet. She walks to a seemingly random bird, picks it up, whispers to it before kissing it almost gently and releasing it into the air.

"Follow the bird," she says in a raspy voice that's almost a croak, then brushes her lips over Ciara's.

She then turns and advances towards me. 

Great.

I glance towards Ciara, who holds up her hand in a steadying manner.

"Follow the bird," she says to me in exactly the same tone. She then goes up on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to my forehead.

I don't know why, but I can't help expecting her breath as it brushes across my face to smell of corruption, of days old meat.

It doesn't.

It doesn't smell of anything at all.

Her lips are cold and almost hard, but that doesn't explain the chill that runs through me at their touch.

Nor the fact that afterwards, I know which bird she means, my eyes easily finding it amongst the dozens on the roof.

I just *know*.

I shiver, and Morrian acquires a slight smile on her face which, more than anything, is enough to put the stiffness back into me.

"This bird will take us to Kalinda?" I ask, and I'm impressed at how calm and collected I sound.

Morrian nods, then says to Ciara, "She's currently at a noble's house."

Ciara visibly tenses. "Do you know whose it is?" she says, her speech far more terse than its usual lackadaisical flow.

"No."

Ciara untenses a little, then looks over at me. She makes a wry, unconvincing expression. "Sounds like we've got a function to attend."

"Because Kalinda's such a big party girl?" I ask. I can't actually imagine the Kalinda I've come to lightly know actually being happy at such a thing, but maybe Ciara will appreciate the image.

Her smile becomes a little more genuine, so maybe I've helped, a little. "That's the General, through and through." She shrugs, "Though it probably helps that noble society is so very fond of doing business at such events."

We're just about to go when Morrian catches Ciara's hand, and holds it tightly. "We can always try my solution," she says in her usual even tone, her grip on Ciara the only sign of emotion.

Looking down at her, the stiffness leaves Ciara completely, and her smile is just fond. "I do appreciate the thought, but the General probably wouldn't." She sighs, a little theatrically. "Maybe next time."

Morrian glances jerkily towards me, and lets Ciara's hand go. Ciara and I give her our farewells, but she's already sunk back down onto the patio and doesn't respond.

Still, we're deep within the house before I ask. "Morrian's solution?"

"She wants to give noble society a new and exciting meaning to the phrase 'a murder of crows'. I've managed to dissuade her, so far." And I'm not entirely certain whether or not the wistful tone in her voice is just part of the joke or not.

 

Since the place we'll be travelling to is also in the noble district, Ciara allows me to cry off using the hellbeasts otherwise known as horses.

After a little humour at my expense, naturally. Thank you, Ciara.

Walking the streets feels a different now to just a few weeks ago. Not only has the daily weapons practise started making itself known in my level of fitness, but the fact that I'm carrying a weapon and know the basics of how to use it changes things.

It changes everything.

All the people around me, all the people carrying weapons of one kind of another, they're no longer other.

We're the same in one way that we weren't before.

Despite the fact that I'm under no illusions about my capabilities if faced with someone who actually knows what they're doing, I do actually feel safer.

I'm starting to fit in here, a realisation that gives me a distinctly mixed feeling.

If nothing else, I'm going back to Earth after this. 

Aren't I?

No matter. 

That's a question for after this business is over.

Morrian's bird flies hither and yon, leading, leading, attracting my eye so much that its image almost burns black into my retina. 

It seems almost a wonder that everyone in the street isn't looking up, pointing.

But, in the end, I have to remind myself that it's just a crow. 

Just being a crow is, in fact, the point.

It takes perch, finally, on the roof of a manor. And then a pressure I wasn't even aware of is suddenly gone. It's just a crow again, no different to any other.

It's something of a relief as the ghost of Morrian's presence dissipates.

"I'm guessing this is the place, then," I say.

I glance towards Ciara, who looks only a little pained.

"It could be worse," she tells me cheerfully enough. "It could always be worse."

We don't get in, of course.

Guards, men all, dressed in mail, move to block us as soon as we approach the gate.

"What's your business here?" one of them says. He looks like he's in his thirties, with a scar puckered to white running down one side of his face.

Ciara takes point. "Message for Princess Kalinda."

The man hesitates for a moment, then nods at another of the guards, who moves off towards the house. A few minutes later, the guard comes out again, accompanied by someone who is distinctly *not* Kalinda.

It's another man, dressed well, if not quite as intricately as some of the nobles I've seen.

When he gets to the gate, there's a glint of recognition as he looks at Ciara, and then his gaze slides straight over her as though she isn't there and fastens on me.

Even then, it's more than a little condescending. 

I'm not sure if it's because I'm not a man, not a native, not a noble or any of the other many things I'm not.

"What message can I pass onto the Princess?" he asks, punctilious and sounding *just* as condescending as his look implies.

In the end, it doesn't really matter why he's behaving towards me the way he is.

When he just looked at Ciara as though she wasn't there, she *twitched*. 

Just a little, hopefully slight enough that no one else noticed, but there, nonetheless.

It makes me briefly sympathise with Morrian's point of view, and I wish, fiercely, that she was here to back Ciara up. 

I can't imagine anyone treating Ciara that way with Morrian's too calm gaze on them.

I draw myself up, and pinion the man with the iciest glare I can muster.

"I sent a message for the Princess. Not... what is your name?"

He shifts a little, uncomfortable, but not yet ready to back down. "None of your business, madam," he says, somehow managing to make the word rhyme with barbarian. "But it *is* my business to know who would like to disturb a guest at this party and why."

"It's private, and for the princess' ears only," I say with something that's not so much a smile as a baring of teeth. He starts to draw himself up, but I cut him off smoothly. "Unless you'd like to debate that with her?" I ask silkily.

He looks like he's caught halfway between bluster and fear, so I decide to nudge the balance in my favour.

"And it's *urgent*," I add. "So, I ask again, what is the name of the person who is wasting the valuable time of a princess of Amber?"

He breaks my gaze, unable to hold it, and instead hisses to the guard. "Keep them here. Politely. Whilst I check out this story of..."

"Alicia Cavanaugh," I insert. 

"The lady," he says. And the threat of what will happen if we don't check out is unspoken but still very much there.

It would probably be more intimidating if he wasn't already scuttling back towards the house.

Ciara offers me an amused look, but I can see the gratitude lurking behind the cheerfulness.

"You really didn't have to," she murmurs.

"I really did," I reply quietly yet crisply.

The man returns a few minutes later, almost running in his haste.

"This way, honoured visitors," he almost pants when he arrives. "The princess is awaiting you in a private room. My apologies for the delay."

"And your apology to Ciara, personally," I say pleasantly, but with more than a hint of steel. "For the way you treated her."

For a moment, I think he's going to protest, but then he ducks his head. "Of course. The way you were treated was regrettable, Lady-"

"Captain," Ciara interjects. "Just Captain Ciara will do fine." She gives him a smile devoid of her usual humour. "That's all I am now, after all."

He nods. "Of course. Captain Ciara. My apologies, once again."

I look at Ciara, and she shakes her head in dismissal. "That's a perfectly adequate apology," I tell him. "Thank you."

He wisely remains silent for the remainder of the time it takes to lead us through the house to an ornately carved wooden door. "The Princess Kalinda," he says, then opens the door and quickly flees.

Kalinda's waiting inside, propping herself up against a desk. Her clothes are fine - far better cut than the others I've seen her wear. They somehow endeavour to be suggestive of the kind of femininity that seems to be high fashion in Amber, whilst still managing to conform, more or less, to the functional lines she generally seems to favour.

"Well?" she asks, arching one eyebrow.

I hesitate for a moment, then look behind me at Ciara. "Would you mind waiting out here?"

Ciara grins at me. "Not a problem, my lady," she says, sweeping a bow. "I promise to guard the door with my life, and keep it free from any snoopers."

"Clown," I tell her, then enter the room and close the door behind me.

"I had a visit from Corwin's prosecutor this morning," I say. "He had an offer for you." I proceed to outline the terms. "Do you think we should accept it?"

Kalinda takes hardly a second to consider the proposal. "No," she says.

Well, that's slightly more succinct than I had been hoping for.

And it had all been going so well up until now.

"Why not?" I ask in an attempt to gain further elucidation.

I mean, I know that Bran had been trying to hustle me. I just don't know *how*.

Maybe, if the stars are right, Kalinda will actually deign to enlighten me.

"If I apologise to Corwin, publically, he wins," she elaborates. Apparently I *am* being lucky today. "Especially if I concede defeat even before the trial."

"*What* does he win?"

"We're both trying to gather support from the same part of Amber society, as I've been reminding him since he had me confined to Amber. On my side I have the fact that I was here during the most recent war, that I fairly directly helped save the city and that I haven't attacked it in the past few decades. On his side he has the fact that he's centuries older than me and that he's a man. At the moment, it's a stalemate. The second I admit in public that he's my superior, explicitly or not, that's over."

"You won't be much of a political contender if you manage to get exiled. Or executed."

She smiles thinly. "As much as it pains me to admit it, my mother won't let me be killed. Doubtless, I'd very abruptly find myself in another part of the universe," she says, and there's an dark edge to her words that I don't feel like probing right now. "As for exile... well, I know people. I doubt there's anything anyone could do to stop me talking to them, relaying things through them. And it wouldn't do Corwin any good to be the person who got a princess exiled for catching a spy."

"It would help the queen," I point out. "To weaken both of you."

She nods. "But I don't think either of them thought I'd have you defending me."

I suppress the urge to blush. "It's not settled yet."

"No. But Corwin hasn't finished bargaining yet, either."

"Well, I'm sorry to have bothered you. I just thought that it was something you should know." I brush myself off. "I guess you've got a party to get back to." Kalinda holds her hand out, and I pause. "Is there anything else?" I ask her.

"Now that you're here... would you do me the honour of being my companion for the afternoon?"

I freeze. 

This... really isn't what I signed on for.

And no matter how attractive Kalinda may be, she's still my client.

On the other hand, she's also a princess.

"Why?" I ask cautiously.

"Do I need a reason to ask an attractive woman to accompany me for a party?" she asks, smirking a little.

I give her a flat gaze.

The smirk vanishes. "There are some people here that it might be useful for you to know. For the trial. It will make things easier if you're introduced as my companion."

I gesture down at myself. "I'm not exactly dressed for anything like this."

"You'll be fine. You're dressed in Earth fashion. It's exotic. And given that both the Queen and Corwin spent some centuries there, it's the *right kind* of exotic."

It's for a case. It's for the most bizarre and outrageous case of my life, but still. It's for a case.

I can do this.

I nod. "Okay. But, just to be clear, I'm here purely as your lawyer. Nothing else."

The lines of Amber propriety may be different to the ones that I'm used to, but I'm making my stand here.

"Understood," Kalinda says. "Will you take my hand?"

I accede to her request, and we leave the room together.

Ciara, loitering outside as she had said she would, shoots us a look.

"Alicia has agreed to be my companion for the afternoon," Kalinda says smoothly.

Ciara's expression turns a little troubled, but just says, "I'll be waiting with the other guards, Alicia, for when you want to leave."

"Are you sure?" I ask softly.

Apparently too softly, because her face transforms into its usual mask of cheerfulness. "I'm sure that I can survive a few hours of bad beer and losing some money at card games."

Fair enough. "I'll see you later, then," I say, then Kalinda whisks me away in the direction of the function.

"Is there anything I should know about?" she asks.

If Ciara wanted her to know... "No," I say.

Kalinda doesn't look exactly convinced, but doesn't push further.

And then we're there.

After a quiet word from Kalinda, the herald at the door announces, "Alicia Cavanaugh of Earth, companion to Princess Kalinda."

An immediate ripple of interest runs through the crowd, and I have just enough time to heave an internal sigh before we plunge into the sea of people.

It isn't exactly my first time at this kind of event. The Florricks were, after all, known for entertaining. Especially during voting season.

But familiarity, by itself, isn't exactly a comfort, bringing back all kinds of uncomfortable memories. 

In some ways, it's just the same. 

The way people treat me, like I'm some brainless fluff, just there adorn someone else's shoulder. The way that, even when they're talking to me, half the time, more, they're actually talking to my partner. The way that, though the alcohol is flowing freely, drinking it won't help one bit, in the long run.

Sometimes, I can feel Peter's ghost haunting me so strongly, I almost expect to see him standing there when I turn around.

In other ways, it's worse.

The way that, unlike before, I honestly don't know much, if anything, about the topics of conversation that keep on coming up. The way that makes me *feel* brainless in a way that being with Peter never actually did. The way that everyone here knows I'm just a temporary adornment, that I'm not worth treating with any more respect than the minimum necessary to avoid angering Kalinda.

I meet the people Kalinda wants me to, of course. I even manage to get what we want out of them.

But I can tell that, in their eyes, I'm not anywhere even close to an equal, and that knowledge *burns*.

And in a few, surprising, ways it's better.

Over the last few weeks, I've started to come to know this odd, enigmatic woman besides me. Not much, of course. But here, amongst the nobles of Amber society, it quickly becomes clear how much more I know her than anyone else here.

The way that the men that can't quite seem to treat her military title with all due seriousness. The way that most of the women ply her with edged compliments. Never quite enough to call anyone on, of course, but the meaning behind the compliments about her 'daring' clothes is quite, quite clear. And the way that her upbringing, not in Amber but in some unknown world, is a constant elephant in the room, often obliquely referred to, but never directly addressed.

It's not much - not even a twitch - but I feel her hand tighten on mine now and again, and I can't help wonder if I've completely misjudged the reasons for her asking me here.

So I smile and parry and cover for her with all the skill acquired from years as a politician's wife.

It's not much, probably not enough, but it's the best I can do.

And, at the end of the afternoon, I'm treated to one of her enigmatic smiles that seems just a touch more genuine than usual, just before I'm handed off to Ciara.

"Things to do, trouble to cause," she says sardonically. "A Princess' job is never done," she adds, and there's more than a hint of bite to her voice as she says the title.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." 

Tomorrow. The trial.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," she says, and then she's off.

Ciara and I watch her leave, then Ciara turns to me. "Back home?" she asks.

I nod, and we set off.

The silence lasts until we're out of the gate and some way down the street. Finally, Ciara breaks it. "Just so you know, the General doesn't do relationships," she says, eyes firmly fixed forwards.

Wait, I think. *What*?

Apparently oblivious to my utter confusion regarding the bombshell she's just dropped, she continues, "I mean, she hardly does spring dalliances, but..."

"Spring dalliances?" I croak, managing to find something - my ignorance - to hang onto.

Anything that isn't...

She does look at me then, just a quick glance, but then she looks forward again. "Marriages are pretty much for life in Amber. Unless you're powerful enough to get a divorce, or just don't care about the social consequences. But pretty much no one gets married before they're a century old. Before then..." she shrugs. "You can have practise relationships. Spring dalliances. Nothing serious," she says, and the last has more than an edge of bitterness to it.

It's one of those times, one of those rare times, that I almost wish that I was more touchy feely. On the other hand I'm not sure how Ciara would react, so it's probably just as well.

"And that was Kalinda?" I ask, as gently as I can.

She jerks a little, then laughs. "*Unicorn*, no. What Kalinda and I had..." she says, then smiles ruefully. "Whatever it was, I certainly wouldn't classify it as a spring dalliance. It was... It was just something that helped to keep her together, during the bad parts of the war, nothing more. I was never under any illusions about *that*."

"And now..?"

"And now, nothing. I've got," she says, and gestures vaguely in the air. "*Things* to occupy myself with. And, anyway, like I said, the General doesn't do relationships."

Which brings me neatly back to where we started the conversation, and I feel like I can start to face it. "And what does this have to do with me?"

It's not that she isn't attractive. It's not even that some traitorous part of my brain hasn't tagged her with the word 'hot'...

It's just not relevant.

"She introduced you as her companion. That... It wouldn't be fair to give you hopes that anything you're having with the General could be more. That's all."

"Anything..." I take a breath, then continue. "There is nothing between Kalinda and I. *Nothing*. She's my client. I'm her lawyer. Nothing else." I'm aware my voice is cold, that Ciara really doesn't deserve this, but...

Is that what everyone in there thought?

That I was in a *relationship* with Kalinda?

"Is that what you thought?" I continue. "That there was *something* between Kalinda and me?"

"I honestly wasn't sure," she says, stopping and turning to look at me levelly. "I respect the both of you enough to trust that you could handle anything that came up."

That's... better. It's something, at any rate, and I feel like I can breathe again.

But still...

"What was she *thinking*?"

"I'm not entirely certain. She's an outlander, much as you are, and sometimes..." She shrugs. "Things just don't have the same meaning for her. If there *is* nothing between you... my best guess is that she was handing you a weapon, and a shield. If people think that you are more than just a lawyer, they'll treat you more seriously," she says. "The royal family are known to be touchy about those close to them, and since you're such a newcomer, that would be the easiest slot for you to fill. Even if it's only by intimation. And the princes and princesses aren't exactly known to choose companions that are lacking in wits."

"I see," I say. When looked at that way, it did make a twisted kind of sense. And she had warned me, technically. Though she certainly hadn't explained the full implications.

"Would you like me to have a word with her?" Ciara asks cautiously.

I smile tightly. "No. You're right. I'm old enough to handle this myself."

"Noted. But if you need any backup..."

"Thanks," I tell her, a little touched.

Ciara, willing to face down her General? For me?

It means something.

"No problem," she says. "Besides, I'm still hoping to recruit you when all this is over."

This is, of course, the first *I've* heard of this. "Oh?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Chaos invaded a few decades back. Religious reasons. The queen seems to be convinced that won't happen again. Some of us... aren't quite so trusting."

"An organised us?"

"The General has a talent for organisation. And for finding people who are willing to devote their lives to such a cause."

"And what has this got to do with me? I'm not exactly eager to dedicate myself to that kind of fight. Besides, it doesn't sound like you need a lawyer."

"You'd be surprised about that. Also, though I might be a minority, I do think that we could do with some cooler heads being involved." She smiles winningly. "No fanaticism required. Also, I'm sure we could offer competitive pay and unique challenges."

Her offer to train me with weapons suddenly makes a certain amount of sense. Though I can't imagine that I'll be in the market for any kind of unique challenge after this case, and almost say so. 

But, instead, I find myself temporising. "I'll think about it," I tell her.

"Thanks," she says, somewhat seriously. And then the devil is back in her eyes. "As an added bonus, the General is usually pretty good about not flirting with my personnel. Though I'm sure she'd make an exception if you asked nicely enough."

I cut her dead with my eyes, but that deters her not one jot.

Thankfully, she then moves onto complaining about the city guard, and how they've gone downhill since Corwin took over.

Within the earshot of a couple of them, naturally.

And so life returns to normal, I think.

At least until tomorrow.


	10. Chapter 10

Something wakes me from a deep sleep in my feathered bed.

A few moments later, and the 'something' resolves into the sound of someone cruelly knocking on my door, despite the fact that the room is still shrouded in the shadows of predawn.

I have just enough time to wonder *why* when I hear an all-too-cheerful 'Alicia!' shouted in Ciara's voice through the door, and I'm reminded that I had done this to myself. *I* was the one who had asked Ciara to wake me at this ungodly hour.

With a creak, I rise and forestall yet another repetition of the knocking by calling 'I'm getting up now," following that with a somewhat insincere, "Thank you, Ciara."

I've yet to master the art of quickly lighting anything in Amber, so I open the curtains to my room, and use the dim light to have a quick wash in icy cold water and find the suit that I'd prepared the night before.

Why am I doing this to myself again?

Oh yes.

Today is the first day of the trial, starting in but a couple of hours. And first I have to have a delicate conversation with my client, about the subject of boundaries.

Oh celestial joy, thy name is Alicia.

As I approach the kitchen, I begin to smell and hear the first good news of the day. Entering the room, I confirm it. Ciara is busy cooking breakfast, and she's cooking for more than one.

More than two, actually. From the amount, she's either cooking for the rest of the team as well, for probably the first time since we got here, or...

"Is Kalinda joining us for breakfast?" I ask.

"I thought I'd make things easy on you."

"You're too kind," I murmur.

I go to grab the dishes, and when I turn back towards the table, Kalinda has materialised out of seemingly nowhere.

I carry smoothly on without a hitch. 

She's obviously done this kind of thing one too many times.

"Disappointed I didn't jump?" I ask when I notice that she's been keeping an eye on me.

She shrugs with one shoulder nonchalantly. "Morning," is her only response.

I start laying out the dishes on the table. "Good morning," I say as I place one in front of her.

Her eyes flick from me to Ciara and back again. "So..." she drawls in an almost, but not quite, casual way.

Ciara tenses, her back still to us, but says nothing.

"After breakfast," I say mildly.

She tilts her head a moment, and gives me a look like she's stripping me down to the bone, then nods. "Sure. After breakfast."

"And with that ominous declaration, here's your first course," Ciara says as she comes over with a pan, obviously having decided that the best way to redirect a princess is with large quantities of food.

From the way that Kalinda demolishes anything put in front of her, I'm not sure she's wrong.

I partake relatively lightly of the cooked food, contenting myself mainly with some fresh fruit that I chop up myself.

Still, it's only a few minutes after I stop eating that Kalinda finishes up, placing her cutlery on her plate and gazing at me with dark eyes. "So," she says again.

"Shall we take this in the study?" I ask.

Kalinda looks at me for a moment longer, then nods.

"I'll just stay here and clear up, shall I?" Ciara asks cheerily, but her eyes lock with mine for a brief moment, asking the question again, this time with more gravity. Last chance to request that backup, she's saying.

"Anything which means that I don't have to clean up later," I reply dryly.

Kalinda's expression during this hasn't changed one bit, but I'm left with the unnerving impression that none of this exchange has escaped her. She rises the same time I do, albeit far more fluidly, and lets me take the lead.

By the time I'm in the study properly and have had time to turn around, Kalinda has already managed to enter behind me, close the door and arrange herself against it, one leg forming a strut, one leg bent loosely. Her arms are folded, and she's back to just looking at me.

I almost take a chair, but change my mind at the last minute. For this encounter, there's no way I'm giving up any advantage and that includes perceived height.

"It appears that there's been some miscommunication," I start.

Kalinda is still watching me, wordlessly.

As if this isn't difficult enough.

"Look, in my culture, part of being a professional involves not sleeping with your clients."

Still no visible reaction. "I think I'd have noticed if you were."

My lips tighten with frustration. "Yesterday. Apparently you announced to Amber society that we were in a relationship. A *serious* relationship."

For the first time since we started this conversation, she reacts, tilting her head in a questioning way that looks almost hesitant. "Is this a problem?"

"Yes! How will anyone respect me if they think I'm sleeping with you?"

"Here? Or where you come from?"

"Both! Either! Does it really matter?"

"Here - people will respect you *more* if they think you are my companion, not less," she says, carefully. "Where you come from - how are they going to know unless you tell them?"

"That's not important. What is - is the fact that I don't want to be thought of in that way. I mean, even Ciara thought we might be sleeping together, and she *lives* here."

"Do you want me to talk to her?"

"No! I've already- that's not the problem. And that is the behaviour leading up to those assumptions. Like the way you carried out that first knife fighting lesson."

Something flashes across her face too briefly for me to identify. "You didn't say anything. Either way. So I stopped after the first time."

"I thought that it might just be a local custom. And how could I say anything, anyway? You're a-" I stop myself before I can say princess, but from the look that passes across Kalinda's face, she heard it anyway.

It's the same thing as before, only it lasts slightly longer than before, long enough for to recognise it as hurt. Then she leans back against the door, as cool as before, more remote than ever. "Whereas I thought that if you'd had a problem, you'd have said something. Don't worry. It won't happen again."

This is all spinning out of control. And the dawn of the trial is the absolute last time that I need to be alienating my client.

And my...

Somehow, through all of this, she's managed to worm her way into becoming a friend.

God.

"I'm sorry," I say, and try for a quick smile. 

It isn't returned. "You don't need to apologise," she says neutrally. "And as for-" She cuts off mid-sentence, looking off into the distance. "Excuse me for a few minutes," she says, focussing on me, then very consciously relaxes, and gazes into thin air again. Something that might be a rainbow shimmer surrounds her, so faint I'm not sure whether it exists, or if it's a trick of the dawn sunlight.

My flow disrupted, I actually feel a little uncomfortable, just waiting for whatever it is to be over.

We were, after all, talking about appropriate boundaries, and now I'm stuck here, and it's almost like looking at her asleep.

I shouldn't be here, I decide, and move slowly towards the door, hoping that I can push it open enough to escape without disturbing her too much. 

But as soon as I get close, she holds out her hand in a clear command for me to stop.

Fine, then. I think, as I make my way back towards the desk. I'll stay if you want me to.

By the time I get there and turn around again, her body language has altered. It's become visibly more defensive - her arms have crossed, she's leaning back into the door so hard it looks like she wants to sink into it, and her mouth isn't just shut, it's firmly closed.

Then, all of a sudden, it's like trap is sprung underneath her flesh. She's launches herself off the wood, standing straight up, almost vibrating, her arms unfolded, her hands clenched at her side, her jaw bulging like if she can only force it closed with enough strength, then she can stop whatever is contained within from escaping.

It's the most naked I've ever seen her, and I'm caught between staring and wanting to look away.

A tiny red blossom explodes in the white of one of her eyes. 

And then another.

And then another.

I stand there frozen for a minute, too long, and then I dash for the door.

Whatever is happening, I need help.

Ciara. Morrian. Gerren.

*Someone.*

I've just about reached the door when she grabs me around the wrist.

For a moment, her grip is hard, so hard that I know it's going to leave bruises.

And then it softens, and her hand slides down, entangling my fingers with her own.

It feels different, more desperate, but it also feels a little it did yesterday.

I don't know what else I can do, so I just hang on for what seems like an eternity.

Until she slumps down to the ground like her strings have been cut. 

After a moment, she claps one hand over her eyes, and murmurs in a voice almost too low for me to catch, "Can you get me some hot water and a cup?"

"Is-" I see her wince, and modulate my voice to be softer, "Is there anything else I can do?"

"No. Just get that, and come back afterwards. We were in the middle of talking." Her voice is a little firmer, but still quiet.

Abruptly, I can't help feeling a little embarrassed. "It's really not that important. Not something we need to talk about at the moment."

Maybe about what the *hell* just happened, but not about my reservations.

"We were in the middle of talking," she repeats.

Fine. It's not like I'm going to get anywhere if she won't let me.

"Okay," I say. "I'll be back as quickly as I can," and creep to the door, open it as quietly as I can, then make my best speed towards the kitchen.

Luckily, Ciara is still there.

"How did it go?" she drawls, then takes a second look at me. "Really. How did it go?"

I'm not sure how much Kalinda would want me to say, so I just grab the kettle from a cupboard, fill it with water and place it on the still hot oven.

"Oh," Ciara says from behind me. "Oh. Hot water and a cup?" I nod, still not looking back at her. *This* I can do for Kalinda. "I should probably take that back to her."

"She said that we still had to talk," I say, a little stubbornly.

"Really?" she asks, sounding a little surprised.

I don't bother responding.

It's not important.

"Are you *sure* that you're not sleeping with her?" she asks, like she's trying to make a joke.

I whip around to stare at her. "No!" 

She takes a step back, holds her hands up and remains blessedly quiet.

Because it's not a joke.

It's not funny at all.

*Something* has happened to Kalinda, and I *don't* know what and I *don't* know how serious it is and *all* I can do it get her this *stupid* water.

All I can do, and I've no idea it's enough.

I could ask Ciara, but I don't know if Kalinda would want me to.

And I may not be able to do anything else, but I can at least keep her confidence.

The kettle whistles, breaking my trance, and I pick it and a cup up, and make my way to the study.

"Let me get the doors," Ciara says, and I almost glare at her again before realising that she's trying to *help*.

"Thanks," I say. A little shortly, but I don't seem to be able to give any other kind of response just at the moment.

Kalinda's my *friend* and I just feel so *helpless*.

By the time that Ciara cautiously opens the study door, Kalinda has made her way into a chair at the desk and is wearing those smoked glass spectacles again.

She looks towards the door as I enter. "Thank you, Ciara," she says in clear dismissal.

Ciara nods and disappears, closing the door quietly behind her, as I place the cup on the desk in front of Kalinda and stand there, holding the kettle in both hands.

"Thanks," she says to me in far softer tones, and produces a sachet from a pouch, emptying the contents in the cup. Then she takes the kettle from me and fills the cup, placing the kettle on the floor and stirring with the rolled up sachet.

I stay hovering uselessly while she waits for a few minutes, blowing into the cup, before draining it.

"Now," she finally says as she turns to look at me through her sunglasses. "What do you want to do about being known as my companion? I could make it known that you're not right now, but that could hurt your standing in the trial. Or we could leave it until after the trial. It's up to you."

"What *happened*?" I ask, unable to contain myself any longer. "Are you alright?"

She hesitates, and for a minute I think she's going to ignore my questions or tell me it's none of my business. Instead, she takes a deep breath then lets it out. "*That* was Fiona, contacting me through a trump." It's a moment before I put the name 'Fiona' together with the name of Kalinda's mother. The dispassion in her voice as she says the name tells one story. The various emotions I saw coursing through her during the communication elaborates on it. "It can be... dangerous talking with the most powerful sorceress in the family that way," she says dryly, "Even if she's on the other side of the universe. If you're as talented at getting under her skin as I am."

"Are you alright?" I repeat.

"It's just a migraine."

Just like the one on the day she was arrested, I think.

I hesitate, then plunge onwards. "If you don't mind me asking, what did she want to say?"

"She wanted to wish me well for the trial. As well as present... certain alternatives. Things went... the way they usually do when we talk."

"I see."

She shrugs. "Family," she says dismissively. "Just remember," she continues in a suddenly fiercer tone. "*You* are my choice. It might not have started that way. But you are *now*."

There're levels I'm not getting here. 

But I'm not sure that I need to.

If she feels like she can share them, later, then I'm sure that she will.

Until then...

I can trust in her words, and the way that she said them.

I'm her choice, apparently.

Which isn't much to live up to. 

Not at all.

But I can do my best.

"So," she says. "What do you want to do about being known as my companion?"

After that...

"Do you really think it would help my standing as your lawyer?" I ask, a little weakly.

"That *is* my understanding, But we could ask Ciara for her opinion."

I hesitate, then nod.

Ciara is waiting in the corridor outside. Not close enough to overhear anything that's happening in the study, but close enough to react.

Just in case, I guess.

She listens to what Kalinda has to say about the companion matter, and takes a breath, looking off into the distance, her face draining of any humour before she answers.

"The General is right," she says, glancing uncomfortably at me for a moment. "If we make it known that you're not her companion after just a single day... Well, you're both outlanders, so that will forgive quite a bit. But it'll remind the judge that you *are* outlanders, and will make you both look flighty and less worthy of trust." She snaps her mouth shut, and looks like she wishes that she could disappear back out of the room.

I sigh internally. It goes against every professional instinct I have, but so did disadvantaging my case...

"Are there any negative consequences to being known as Kalinda's companion?" I ask.

"It'll make you more noticeable, both to the nobility and to the royal family. Though with the trial, I doubt that any nobles will expect you to do anything publically."

"The royal family, though?"

Ciara glances at Kalinda, then at me. "I'd imagine that they'd be curious."

Great.

That's all I need.

More interest from them.

On the bright side, I can hope that Corwin will obey the Queen's edict to keep away from me.

On the down side, there's absolutely nothing in the way of the rest of them.

Including Kalinda's mother, whose power I've already seen.

"I'll take care of it. Regardless," Kalinda says. She still pale, still with the sunglasses on, still speaking quietly. But she's got such a resolute expression on her face, she looks like she'd fight an army, right now, right here.

And really, to that, what more can I say?

"Okay," I say. "Just for the trial."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh. Many apologies for leaving this so long between updates. I hit writer's block with this, and hit it hard. Hopefully I'm over it now, though.

I rise as Judge Adair enters the room.

He's the oldest looking person I've seen in Amber - stringy, white hair, wrinkled features and a faltering gait, using a cane for support. Even so, there's still a sword hanging at his side, though it does look a lot less sturdy than anything I've seen around the house.

I bow my head and present my wrists in what is hopefully the correct fashion. Apparently, it means 'I honour the recipient as a defender of the city, from my position as supplicant.'

The message isn't exactly to my taste, but I do what is best for the case. 

And it's a lot better than the one I had been practising for the last few weeks. *That* one involved getting down on my knees and presenting the back of my neck. It's the traditional supplication of outsiders when faced with one of the nobility who has been in the military, and speaks to the conquered begging the conquerors.

At least Kalinda proclaiming me her companion had saved me from *that* little indignity, even if it *had* meant that I needed to learn a new greeting in rather short order.

This kind of formality isn't precisely usual in Amber these days, but Adair, from all accounts, is very proud of his military service in the dawn wars, that took place nearly a millennium ago when Amber was still carving out its place in the universe, and sees such niceties as his rightful due.

Across from me, Bran stands upright, his hand on his sword hilt. He also served in the military some centuries ago, in a campaign against some people called the Moonriders. Although pretty much all officials above a very junior rank have served in the military, most do so in the Navy. Adair and Bran are relatively unusual in having served in the army - possibly why Corwin kept his services.

Beside me, Kalinda uses the same salute. This actually had been up for debate - reminding Adair that Kalinda had flouted tradition by serving in the military might do more harm than the good of the reminder of the service. Especially given that she might well not have been charged in the first place if she'd been a man.

In the end, though, Kalinda had not been willing to back down on the subject, and so the decision had been made.

I can't help feeling Ciara's absence from the courtroom keenly. She absented herself, claiming that her presence could only make things worse. Judging by the way the servant acted yesterday, I can see her point.

Still.

Given her almost constant presence at my side over the last few weeks, it feels strange to be here without her.

Adair reaches his seat, and lowers himself down with a certain amount of gravitas. 

And, with that, the susurrus of everyone else finding their own seats surrounds me.

Only to be broken by the sound of someone very loudly opening the doors behind me, then closing them again with equal volume. And, from the sound of the footsteps, whoever it is must be wearing hobnailed boots.

I can only guess that they really, really want to be heard.

Sneaking a look behind me, I see a tall red-headed man walking casually down the divide at the centre of the court. Somewhat improbably wearing red and orange - which somehow works for him - he has a sword buckled at his side, and a grin telling all and sundry that yes, he is *completely* aware of all the attention he's attracting from everyone in the room, and, yes, he's definitely enjoying every iota of it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kalinda twist around as well, only to immediately turn back towards the front, her face even more of a mask than it was before.

The man stops near where Corwin is sitting, a friendly smile splitting his face. Corwin is a little more subdued, but he doesn't seem to be displeased that the man is here. The exchange of words is too low for me to overhear, but they shake hands in a cordial enough manner. 

And then the man is off again, off towards... us? He seats himself in one of the cluster of empty seats that Julian's icicle-like presence has kept free.

Whilst I'm still trying to decide who this can be, and what this could mean for the case, Adair clears his throat and Bran stands to begin his presentation.

I focus my attention towards the front again as he starts to speak.

Kalinda's expression doesn't provide any help, apart from she is quite clearly ignoring whoever is behind us.

I spare a glance for Gerren - my aide in the courtroom - but he just shakes his head in response.

Great.

I can't help missing Ciara. Surely she'd have some idea of who this could be.

Still, I have to trust Kalinda, trust that she'd tell me if I really needed to know.

...

No, I can't even convince myself of *that* one.

Still, the courtroom is *not* the place to start an argument with my client.

I'll just have to hope that it can wait until the recess for lunch.

 

The man in front of me is big, bluff, rough-hewn. Dressed in the uniform of the city guard, he looks like the kind of person who extracts secrets from prisoners through the cracking of bone and the tearing of joints. Rather than, say, the cold and clinical process he's actually describing - flaying someone's mind one layer at a time, extracting information in a manner like panning for gold.

It's a horror show of a process, described in intricate detail, from the initial preparations involving moderate starvation and drugging, to the end stages of shredding the subject's personality.

And, from the glances that Bran throws me from time to time, I'm sure that this totally unnecessary description of what interrogation Amber-style consists of is aimed at me.

Trying to throw me off my game.

It's working.

I don't think there can be any blood left in my face. It's probably just as well - otherwise there it would probably be running down my chin from the way my teeth are buried in my lip.

The only thing stopping me from challenging this, asking Bran to just get to the point *already* is that I know that is just what he's trying to get me to do.

Flinch in front of Adair. 

Admit to the weakness that they're already sure I possess, as a woman and as an outsider.

My pride is the only thing keeping me silent, stopping me from running from this place.

Well, the only thing apart from Kalinda's hand wrapped around mine, anchoring me, keeping me here. 

That and the fact that she's otherwise ignoring me, letting me keep what shreds of dignity I have managed to retain so far.

*Finally* Bran moves onto an actually relevant point.

"And, during the interrogation, did you discover any discrepancies?"

"Yes. There were gaps in the subject's memories, signs of dislocation and mental trauma."

"Could these holes have cost you anything of value?"

"Some of the missing areas concerned items of special interest. Other than that," the man shrugs, "It's impossible to tell how much valuable information was lost to the guard."

"What could cause this kind of damage?"

"If the subject wasn't captured properly, if they had time to prepare, certain methods can allow them to destroy their most important memories, to stop them being retrieved by interrogation."

"And are the city guard trained to minimise the chances of that happening?"

"Yes."

Bran looks triumphantly in my direction. It's clearly a part of his case - if he can prove incompetence, that Kalinda caused information to be lost to Amber, that she was too *female* to be trusted to properly involve herself in the city's affairs, then there is clear precedent for a conviction.

That this precedent was, in part, set by Adair's trial over the then-princess Florimel is a point that will be lost on no one.

"No further questions," he says.

Before I can respond, Kalinda whispers in my ear, "Ask him who provided the city guard with anti-shifter training."

I take a sip of water, mentally urge blood back into my extremities, then rise to my feet.

Okay, that seems like a good question to start with.

"Who provides the city guard with the training needed to safely capture shape shifters?"

"Captain Curtis of the guard is in charge of that."

I don't need Kalinda's prompting to come up with the follow-up question - I'm familiar enough with Ciara's tales to know what she was getting at.

"And where did he get his experience?"

The man in front of me twitches slightly, his eyes flickering towards Bran - or Corwin. "He got it during the war."

"Which unit?" I ask sweetly.

"The Silver Blades."

"So he is qualified to capture shape shifters because he served in Princess Kalinda's unit? Who used tactics she came up with personally?"

"Your honour!" Bran objects. "Argumentative."

"Is there actually a question there for the witness to answer?" Adair asks dryly.

"I'll withdraw the question, your honour," I say swiftly, and move on to more prepared ground. "Is there any evidence that Princess Kalinda actually had anything to do with the spy's capture?"

"One of the blank spots centred on that event," he says. "There is a discontinuity between her final day working in the castle, and being in Prince Julian's custody."

"So anyone could have captured her?" I press. "*Prince Julian* could have captured her."

He shrugs. "Maybe."

I change tack. "These holes you noticed," I say, briefly tasting bile as I approach the still vivid images Bran had furnished me with. "Is there anything else that could have caused them?"

"Psychic interrogation."

I pause a moment, and take a breath. "But you said... wouldn't that cause far greater damage?"

"It depends on how thorough you are," he says. His eyes flicker over my other shoulder - in the direction of Kalinda, or someone sitting near her - and he goes a little pale. "Or how skilled you are," he adds grudgingly.

Oh, I think a little distantly, he must have been looking at Julian.

I can't imagine that someone known as the King's Monster would be immensely forgiving of being called 'not thorough'.

"How skilled would you have to be to complete a thorough psychic interrogation with so little damage?" I persist.

"Very," he answers. "I can only think of two or three people who might be able to do that."

"And these people are?"

"Prince Julian, Princess Fiona and Prince Brand, if he were still alive."

And, of course, Julian *was* the one who handed the prisoner over to Corwin.

Apparently to be mentally dissected.

"So, if you wanted to make sure that a prisoner was properly questioned, wouldn't it make sense to take it one of these experts, rather than the City Guard?"

"Your Honour," Bran objects again. "Speculation."

Adair raises his eyebrows at me.

I shrug. At the end of the day, Adair is the person I have to convince. 

And, in the past, even excluded arguments had been noted in his judgments.

So, it's a weapon I'm certainly not leaving out of my arsenal.

"No further questions," I say, and sit down.

 

During the rest of the morning, Bran comes up with a variety of witnesses and citations, arguing that there is clear precedent that any spy captured within the limits of the city must be delivered to the proper authorities post haste. Further, that as a former member of the military, Kalinda is bound by many of their rules and regulations 'even though she is female.'

It's a strong argument, one I'm having problems finding fault with, but by the time lunch rolls around, he still has yet to really touch on the central question of the case.

Whether or not Kalinda actually grabbed the spy in the first place.

Maybe he's biding his time. 

Maybe something's come up with his chain of evidence.

Maybe he's still hoping to convince Kalinda to make the apology before anything irrevocable gets said in court.

I don't know, and the thought settles uneasily on my stomach.

Not that my appetite has recovered from earlier.

"Niece," comes a voice from behind me.

Kalinda tenses, then turns around.

"Bleys," she says to the redheaded man seated behind us. "You shouldn't have."

He grins. "Do you really think I'd miss your first trial? What kind of person do you think I am?"

"You shouldn't have," she repeats, flatly. "Really. And this isn't my first trial."

I can't help glancing at her curiously. She's never mentioned anything about another trial before. But maybe I shouldn't be surprised at her not telling me something.

He waves her words away casually. "Your first *important* trial, then," he says, seeming to ignore the way that Kalinda twitches at his words. "And, honestly, I couldn't have missed it. Your mother would have my guts for garters."

Kalinda stares at him for a moment longer, then turns towards me, dismissing him. "Come," she says, then walks away, rapid strides eating up the distance to the door. Julian raises an eyebrow in Bleys' direction, then follows her, as do I.

As does Bleys.

Of course he does.

And, naturally, given the way my luck seems to run, he apparently gives up trying to talk to Kalinda, and, instead, focusses on me.

"You must be Alicia," he says, offering me a hand. I look at it a moment, before gingerly taking it. No, Kalinda might not be best pleased at me seeming to take sides like this. On the other hand, prince of Amber, et cetera, et cetera. "We've heard about you," he continues, genially. "Even over at the other side of reality."

Oh, this can't be good. Whatever this is, it can't be good.

"Really?" I hazard.

"Oh, absolutely. The first companion of the daughter of the Empress of Chaos - worse, the first companion of the daughter of my esteemed sister? Yes, I've heard all about you." His voice contains a mix of humour and commiseration. "Just on the off chance you were planning on visiting us in the near future... you might want to wait a while."

Kalinda stops dead a few paces ahead of us, then whirls around quickly as caged lightning. Her face, though, is still smooth as ice.

"I don't know why you're here. I don't really care. Alicia is my lawyer. Alicia will remain my lawyer." Her smile is sharp, deadly. "I'll leave telling Fiona to you."

And suddenly, some of our conversation earlier, after Kalinda's mother had trumped her, becomes a little clearer.

This, apparently, is my intended successor.

Intended by Fiona, at any rate.

Despite my doubts, even despite the execrable morning I've had, something in me hardens, rises to the challenge.

Maybe it's just my pride talking, but *I* want to be the one defending Kalinda.

Bleys backs off a pace, hands held up in a placating fashion. "Whoa, whoa. Despite the always welcome opportunity to see a little more of my niece, my trip up here is definitely *not* my idea. Trust me, there's a thousand things down in Chaos I'd really rather be keeping an eye on just at the minute. But, well, your mother has a certain way of getting people to see things her way," he says with more than a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

"Good," Kalinda says. "Then you won't have a problem keeping quiet and out of the way. Will you?"

Bleys lowers his hands. "It's nice to see that you really are your mother's daughter."

"You'd know that better than me," Kalinda says. "Occupy yourself. Elsewhere."

Bleys shrugs, and turns to leave. 

Possibly unwisely, I decide to interject. "Excuse me. Prince Bleys?"

Both Bleys and Kalinda turn to look at me. Bleys with a glint of amusement in his eyes, Kalinda with none at all.

"Empress Fiona wanted you to be Princess Kalinda's lawyer. Is there any advice you'd like to give me?"

I've studied Amber law, but only over a matter of months. 

Even with all the experts Kalinda could muster, I'd prefer to not let pride, mine or hers, stand in the way of potential aid.

Bleys pauses for a moment, and looks towards Kalinda.

Kalinda looks off into middle distance for a moment, then nods. "As my companion requests," she says.

I'd prefer 'as my lawyer requests', but...

I guess it allows her to save more face this way.

Bleys quirks an eyebrow, then turns to look at me.

"Shall we discuss this over lunch? I know a wonderful little place not too far from here."

Kalinda rolls her eyes, but doesn't say a thing.

I guess that we're on for a lunch date.


	12. Chapter 12

The walk isn't exactly quiet - Bleys makes sure of that all by his lonesome - but it's quiet enough.

Quiet enough and distant enough from the courtroom for me to begin to think.

It can be a dangerous thing, thinking. 

Especially for lawyers.

Well, not about the case. That's somewhat expected, to say the least.

But thinking about what it means...

That's something they try and train out of you in law school.

Just think about the client, about how best to serve them. 

That's the lawyer's sacred mantra.

And I'm... I'm having some problems with that just about now.

Because...

Because the thought that I've been avoiding, ever since the interrogator took the stand...

The thought that's been circling in the back of my mind, waiting to pounce, waiting until I wasn't concentrating fully on the case, is...

I'm defending a torturer.

Or at least an accomplice, under US law.

And, yes, I know she isn't, under Amber law.

I know that all the pain, the anguish, that the prisoner suffered was completely legal here.

And I know that it's not going to make a difference to how vigorously I defend her.

But still.

It makes a difference to me.

The woman who's grown to like the princess over the last few weeks.

I find my fingernails start to embed themselves in my palm again.

And, this time, there isn't any possibility of a grip on my arm to distract me.

 

"Oh," Kalinda says flatly, disturbing me from my inward contemplation. "*Here*."

I blink, look, then look again.

I've become so used to Amber's stone-everywhere-and-all-the-time policy that the building ahead of me, emerging from a concealing shroud of trees, produces a slight feeling of unreality, of an out-of-context problem.

On Earth, well, in the U.S., the metal and mirrored glass construction of the exterior wouldn't be out of place. Well, not *too* out of place.

Here?

Here it seems like an extrusion from another world. One that gives me an acute stab of homesickness at that.

This isn't a simple restaurant. This isn't a simple *anything*.

Though, glancing at Bleys, I wonder why I ever thought otherwise.

And once we're inside, it's another world yet again.

My first impression is that of a tunnel of darkness. As the door closes behind me, though, I become aware of pinpricks of light. Many pinpricks. Though, as my eyes adjust, maybe actually just a few. The walls and ceiling - they're mirrored, giving rise to an impression of a constellation of stars flickering around us.

It's beautiful, and in a completely different way to whatever I might have expected from the outside of the building.

It takes me a moment to remember my companions, who, like me, have stopped just past the door. 

Kalinda is staring ahead, radiating a complete lack of interest in her surroundings. Whereas Bleys... Bleys is looking at us both with an amused look on his face.

"It's a contrast thing," he says. "At night, they line this corridor with bright lanterns."

That... that would also work.

A moment later, Kalinda starts walking forward again. "Are we actually going to have something to eat?" she asks brusquely.

Bleys shrugs at me, grinning, then catches up with her. "And there was I thinking, dear niece, that you didn't approve of my choice of venue."

"It's very you," she says, in a way that makes it very clear that this is *not* a compliment. 

And then she's at the second set of doors, and opens them to reveal...

Light.

I blink rapidly a few times and my vision shifts back, clarifying the scene before me. The multiple floors of the restaurant are built around a central atrium. The roof is made entirely of glass, letting in enough natural light that we might as well be standing under the open sky.

(Given the level of technological advancement, that glass might have cost a king's ransom. No pun intended. To say nothing about the time and level of skill it must have taken.)

I'm dimly aware of Bleys stepping forward to greet someone - the maître d'? - with good humour and effusive gestures. One part of me notes the fact that they actually seem to know each other, even though the Prince hasn't set foot in Amber for four decades - if I recall correctly - and the man doesn't look a day over thirty.

(I keep forgetting about the natives' slow aging.)

I take a couple of hesitant steps forward so I can look upwards, at the dizzying panorama stretching up above me.

Rich colours and richer textures. So many. Too many.

This level, the entryway, is all shades of red and gold and smooth, dark wood. Welcoming curves and enfolding softness, like a well-upholstered matron clutching you tightly to her bosom. The carpet is soft and thick, my feet sinking into it so far I'm half-afraid I won't stop sinking.

(I bet it would be heaven to walk on with bare feet.)

Closed doors bar our way to either side, but across the atrium I can see that the colour scheme is continued all the way around. Low divans and plump chairs are visible lining the central area, some occupied by people lounging, chatting, helping themselves to drinks and foodstuffs from small tables. Uniformed people - servers? - walk among them, occasionally disappearing out of sight behind velvet drapes that hide the rest of the floor from view.

Is this whole floor just one big waiting room? Are those people waiting for tables? For friends? For carriages?

Just how busy does this place get?

I can see people on the other levels, seating at tables, looking over the balcony (even down at me), and generally going about their business, but I'm just not tracking well enough to be able to estimate numbers. But this place is huge.

I snap out of my fugue as someone - Kalinda - steps up beside me, leaning casually against the balcony.

"I thought he said a 'little' place," she murmurs, her voice resigned. I steal a glance at her, but her face is giving nothing away.

I start to reply, but then Bleys is there, smiling, introducing us to the maître 'd as:

"My niece, Princess Kalinda, and her companion, Alicia."

Relationship, rank and then name, I note, somehow unsurprised.

Pleasantries are exchanged. Kalinda is polite, but says as little as she can get away with. And then Zachariah - the maître d' - summons a servant to whisk us through the doors and into a velvet-lined box of an elevator. One side is mostly open aside from a (much too low) safety gate (fastened in place with what looks like a chain of gold, which probably says a great deal about the designers' priorities).

The servant pulls a bell-cord five times, and the elevator start moving upwards.

It's not nearly as smooth as the elevators I'm used to, and my stomach catches a little at the unexpected lurch.

There's no electricity in Amber, I remind myself again. Maybe it's magic. Maybe it's just powered by good old fashioned muscles.

Most people seem to use the stairs, or a gentle ramp that twines around the central shaft, but I can see a few more platforms ascending or descending, their occupants dressed in varied fashions, but always sumptuously.

But they're not what draws my attention. That's reserved for the floors that we're passing themselves.

One looks like something I'd expect to see on Downton Abbey, or maybe in a Jane Austen adaptation. Polished wooded tables and stiff-backed upholstered chairs. Silver candlesticks. Painted walls. Countless little knick-knacks and ornaments and pictures. The palette of choice here seems to be comprised of pastel colours.

Another is almost shocking in its unadorned roughness, seeming oddly unfinished after the polish of the other levels. Bare stone walls and floors, their starkness relieved only by sconces and scattered animal pelts. Long benches of scarred, unvarnished wood are lined up like something out of a Viking feast hall. And, indeed, some of them are occupied by men who could actually *be* Vikings.

(I think my brain breaks a little bit trying to imagine them all traipsing through this luxurious vestibule. The image just doesn't quite fit.)

One of the floors halfway up the building makes me think of nineteen-thirties pulp adventure stories. The Rocketeer, or Doc Savage or something of that ilk. Art deco architecture with furniture to match; un-ergonomic, but oh-so-stylish. Mosaic-tiled floors. Potted plants - big, leafy things that break up the geometric perfection with a touch of the jungle.

A floor built entirely of marble, like a vast mausoleum, with statues lining the edges. Then one of the 'statues' moves. A painted woman? An animate statue? She - it? - heads towards a man eating alone at a table that could easily seat twelve or more.

Something that could be a scene from Ancient Rome, all fluted columns and low couches. Complete with people wearing togas.

Every level is different, every one unique. This place is a riotous clash of colours, styles, decor and atmosphere. It should be a gaudy mess, and yet somehow, like Prince Bleys' ensemble of red and orange, it actually seems to work.

"I hope you don't mind," Bleys says, as the elevator begins to slow, but I took the liberty of choosing a floor. Not giving either of us a chance to express any reservations about that - not that *I'd* say anything; I don't know if Kalinda would - Bleys turns the full force of his thousand watt smile on me. "I thought you might like a little taste of home."

Oh.

Of course.

The elevator comes to a shuddering halt, our guide opening the gate and leading us out onto the floor that Bleys has chosen. I look around, a muddle of feelings warring within me. Deja vu. Homesickness. Unease. A desire to flee, to lock myself in a room and just pretend as hard as I can that I'm back on earth, that I never left, that the past few months have just been the strangest dreams.

I give all those butterflies the space of one breath to flutter hither and thither, then cage them again, making myself study the scene with a critical, analytical eye.

The light is wrong. They've done their best, but you can't mimic electricity with oil lamps and candles. You just can't.

Oddly, that little detail actually helps to steady me.

Belatedly, I realise that I should say something to Bleys.

"Thank you, Prince Bleys." I give him my best pleased smile, the one I used to use at dinner parties when accepting gifts or compliments to 'the wife.' "That's very thoughtful of you."

"Please, call me Bleys," he says. "I'm glad you like it. I'm told it's modelled on the Waldorf Astoria." He leans in a little, lowering his voice. "That was one of Queen Florimel's favourite restaurants when she was on shadow earth. I understand that she was consulted on the design."

"Nice to know that you've had the time to keep track of restaurants whilst you've been in Chaos," Kalinda says.

"Well, one must keep one's priorities straight," he says wryly.

"Quite," she replies flatly.

He twitches a little, then sighs. "Look, I don't pretend to know all the ins and out of your relationship with your mother. But I'd like to get to know you as yourself, not as my sister's daughter. And I'd appreciate it if you gave me the opportunity to be treated as something other than your mother's brother."

Kalinda look at him for a long moment, but doesn't say anything.

"Truce?" he asks, extending a hand.

"I believe you're here because my companion requested your presence," she says coolly, raising an eyebrow.

He lets his hand drop to his side, and turns his attention back to me, ratcheting up the smile. Despite myself, I can't help responding, at least a little.

"Shall we?" he asks, offering me his hand instead.

I look to Kalinda for guidance, but she's just watching us expressionlessly.

Well, I guess it's not like we're actually companions, I think as I allow him to take me by the arm and lead me to our table. No point in potentially irritating a prince, after all. Especially since I can't count on Kalinda's continued protection.

She follows us, but I can feel her silent presence burning my skin almost like a brand.

It's only sitting down that I remember, that I recall, I'm sitting with people who don't have a problem with destroying a prisoner's mind, and my stomach drops like lead once again.

What am I doing here?

And how much longer can I carry on?

 

I'm not exactly feeling like talking, and Kalinda is, well, Kalinda, so, possibly thankfully, Bleys seems more than willing to take up the slack. He's not bad at it - spinning tales about his deeds and misdeeds off in shadow, and adroitly avoiding any mention of the landmines of Amber and Chaos and Fiona.

Kalinda even smiles once or twice, before apparently remembering herself and composing her face once again.

It's even enough to make me better, from time to time.

It's not until after the meal - which is excellent, if almost painfully nostalgic - that I get down to business.

"So," I say, "What strategies were you planning on using if Kalinda had taken you up on your offer?"

"From what I saw in court this morning, I'm rather glad that she didn't," he says, smiling at me winningly. "In all honesty, I didn't think it likely, given what I knew about her," he continues, ignoring the glower that Kalinda aims in his direction. "I'm not nearly the technical expert you are. My first strategy would have been to rely on my winning ways to charm the judge."

"I'm *so* glad that I would have been in safe hands," Kalinda says.

He ignores that too. "The second would have been to do my best to create an... alternate narrative. Something that Corwin might find more palatable."

"Oh?" I ask.

"Corwin may not like Kalinda - she's been quite the thorn in his side from what I've heard - but she's not his biggest problem."

"The Queen?" I hazard.

He nods. "Given a choice between dealing a blow to Kalinda, and dealing a further one to the queen... well, I'm fairly sure I know which way my brother would leap."

"Of course, I imagine what he'd like to do is bag both."

"Which is why I'd try and make that as hard as I could. Paint a picture of an honest young lieutenant-"

"General," Kalinda interjects. "I'm a general. You've been out of the game far too long if you think I'm a piece rather than a player."

Bleys raises his eyebrows. There's maybe a hint of scepticism in his eyes, but it's gone before I can be sure.

From the way Kalinda tenses, before going blank-faced again, she catches it too.

He gives a one armed shrug. "It doesn't matter for this. The point is to sell the court that you were just a lieutenant, who, when you found a spy that no-one else had because of *certain* policy decisions to relax security to improve relations between the courts... Well, you immediately turned to the man you could trust."

"Wouldn't that get you in trouble with the Queen?"

"I serve a different ruler," he says. "Though I doubt she would be pleased, either." He shakes his head. "Trust me, you don't want to know the diplomatic headaches this whole incident has been causing. Even apart from certain nationalistic elements raising their heads above the cover they've been lurking behind, I've had to personally soothe ruffled feathers over contracts that have been broken between the two courts. Mostly mercantile, but at least one proposed alliance between noble houses has come crashing down."

Kalinda, I note, is looking far from displeased about this news.

"Then why go for this particular approach?" I have to ask.

"Because I was sent up here at the last moment, without any real time to prepare," he says, with some asperity. "I admit, I may be the nearest Chaos has to an expert on Amber Port Law, but a City Law prosecution of a royal?" He throws up his hands. "But, well, as I'm sure that you can appreciate, clients aren't always reasonable." 

His gaze doesn't slide in Kalinda's direction. 

Neither does mine. 

But we share a definite moment of commiseration.

And Kalinda glares at the both of us equally.

 

It's not much, our talk over lunch.

It doesn't really offer much in the way of new insights - though it does spark a few interesting lines of argument.

And it certainly doesn't do anything to assuage the central problem that I started lunch with.

But, between the reminder of home, and the conversation, and the first chance to really talk with another lawyer for over a month...

It's enough.

Enough to at least get me to tonight.


	13. Chapter 13

"You worked with Sadhbh Quealey?" Bran asks the woman on the stand.

The witness looks like she's in her mid-thirties, dark red hair neatly arranged in a high bun. Her eyes flick downwards in respect as he questions her, but, otherwise, she does not waver. "A hundred years and more, sir. Though we'd only cleaned the same section for the last thirty."

"Since the war," he prompts.

"Since the war." Her face twitches, twists a little. "Since that *thing* must have taken her place."

"Did anything unusual happen on the day the spy disappeared?"

"Yes, sir. I saw Princess Kalinda walk past me, in the direction of the room that... that the spy was currently working in."

"And you didn't see anyone else go in that direction? Before you noticed the spy's disappearance, I mean."

"No, sir."

"Are you sure about this?" he asks again. It's pure theatre - he obviously already knows the answer to the question - but it's *effective* theatre. "After all, you were busy cleaning. Could someone have slipped by?

The woman stands up even straighter, a look of offense crossing her face. "I would have noticed, sir. I may only be a maid, but security is a duty that rests with all of us."

"And the princess was not a common visitor to your section?"

"I've never seen her there before, not in all of the time she's been in Amber."

He nods, satisfied. "No further questions."

And there it is. 

The evidence that puts Kalinda at the scene of the, well, arrest. 

It's not conclusive, but it's damning enough that I can't just ignore it.

I can see why he left it so late, though. It's still insubstantial enough that he wanted me to have as little time as possible to pick it apart.

I step forward. "Just to clarify, though, you didn't see or hear anything?"

"No, ma'am." There's a trace of a sneer on her face as she answers. Not enough for anyone to call her on it, but present enough to let me know just what she thinks of me.

Lord knows what it would have been like if I wasn't Kalinda's companion.

"So anything could have happened in there, as far as you know?" 

She doesn't grace me with an answer, just nods.

"The princess may have even had nothing to do with the spy's disappearance?"

"Objection, your honour," Bran says. "Argumentative."

"Sustained," Adair says.

I'm not sure if I've won or lost points with that last exchange. But at least now the idea is out there.

I sit down. "No further questions."

 

"What is your name and rank?" I ask the man in front of me.

He looks *intensely* unhappy to be here, eyes flickering uneasily between the defence and the prosecution, between Kalinda and Corwin, barely resting on me.

"Curtis, Captain of the City Guard," he says finally.

"And you are the guard expert on shapeshifters?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Where did you gain this expertise?"

"During the war, I served with the Silver Blades."

"Who commanded this unit?"

"Princess Kalinda."

The court - Adair - already knows this of course, but it's a lead up to what I ask next.

"And, in your opinion as an expert, how would you judge the princess' ability to spot shapeshifters?"

"Excellent."

"Better than your own?"

He tenses for a moment, before nodding.

"And might she be able to spot a shapeshifter merely by encountering them?"

"Maybe?" he says slowly, before focussing his attention in Kalinda's direction. "Probably," he adds quickly. "She always did have an uncanny sense for them."

As I glance around the courtroom, I can see Bran frowning. 

On the face of it, it looks like I am making his case for him.

If Kalinda had the expertise to spot a shifter, and she is known to have been in the right place...

On the other hand, that battle is pretty much already lost. 

Her ability at fighting shifters is hardly uncommon knowledge, and what I'm getting out into the open Adair probably already assumes.

It's just that now I can engage with this assumption. 

With an idea sparked by what Bleys had said over lunch and a little help from Kalinda.

"What would the protocol have been, during the war, if you'd discovered a spy in the middle of a friendly stronghold?" I ask, changing tack.

"Interrogation," he replies promptly, probably relieved to have an easy question to answer.

"Not passing word up the chain of command?"

He looks a little trapped, but responds anyway. "No. Protocol was to get any information we could as quickly as possible. In case there were any surprises."

"And would Prince Julian or the interrogators of the city guard have been a better bet for a swift, effective... interrogation?" The word feels like bile in my mouth, but I manage to get it out anyway.

And now he's just paralysed, the only movement being his eyes. He looks he's thinking that if he only stays still enough, I might forget that he's there.

"I'm sorry," I prompt, unwilling to let him off this easily, "What was your answer?"

"Prince Julian," he says finally. "Out of those choices, protocol would have been to take him to Prince Julian."

"No further questions," I say, sitting down.

Bran pauses for a moment, and I can't help glancing around at that side of the courtroom.

Corwin is looking thunderous, and he seems to be splitting his ire equally between Julian, Kalinda, myself and the hapless Curtis.

Julian and Kalinda can take care of themselves.

I... I, at least, have Kalinda. We may only be lawyer and client, but I can't imagine her backing away from a confrontation should Corwin come after me.

Well, at the moment at any rate. Later... well, hopefully later I'll be far enough away and out of mind enough for him to forget about me.

I just hope that he isn't too angry with Curtis.

Still, with the precedent currently being set, if anything does happen to Curtis, maybe he'll be the one being prosecuted.

Maybe.

Bran says something to Corwin, distracting him from us. He thinks for a moment, then replies in a low voice.

Bran gets to his feet, and clears his throat.

"Captain Curtis, am I right in thinking that the protocol you referred to earlier is the *emergency* protocol. That if you'd had the time and opportunity to speak to someone further up the chain of command, protocol would tell you to do that, instead?"

He nods immediately. "Of course, sir."

"No further questions," Bran says, sitting down again.

Now it's my turn to narrow my eyes.

Now it rests on whether Bran can produce evidence that Kalinda's capture of the spy was premeditated. He hasn't managed to so far, but...

Now the game is on.

 

We break shortly after that. Bran says that he may have some new evidence that will throw new light upon certain details of this case, but seems oddly diffident about the possibility.

I can only hope that whatever he's looking for, he doesn't manage to get.

"Not a bad position to end the day on, if I do say so myself," Bleys says, clapping a hand over my shoulder as we exit the courtroom.

"Well, your ego is intact as ever, I see," Kalinda observes. But her words aren't as angry as they had been at lunchtime, and there may have been something almost approaching a smile.

Apparently Bleys has powers to soothe savage princesses.

"So, where are we going for dinner?" he asks. At Kalinda's look, he adds, "I treated you to lunch. It seems only fair."

"*We're* going to eat at our house," Kalinda says firmly. "You can find your own meal. Unless you're suddenly not capable of *that*."

Bleys makes a show of thinking. "And what if I'm not?"

"Then I'm sure you can go without for one night," she says dryly.

He looks at her thoughtfully for a moment, then nods. "I suppose I am banished, then." He unwraps his arm from around me, then bows deeply and takes my hand, brushing his lips over it. "A pleasure to meet you, dear lady." He straightens and *grins* at Kalinda impishly. "Not bad to finally meet you, either."

Kalinda looks at him indecipherably, then says, "Meeting you... hasn't been as bad as I'd imagined."

"High praise indeed. Well, I'll be seeing you tomorrow," he says, then turns and makes his way in the direction of the castle.

I look at Kalinda questioningly. I hadn't thought that Bleys had been *that* much of a pain, and he had helped with the case...

It might have been useful to have him around this evening.

Kalinda doesn't say anything, just starts off towards the house purposefully, cutting through the crowds with cool efficiency, and it's all I can do to keep up in her wake.

There's an odd air about her. She's more closed-off than she's been in some time. Several times on the trip back I almost say something, but...

Not here. Not out in the open. Kalinda's far too well known to trust that anything we say out here will remain private.

And... maybe not in front of Gerren, or the others, if I can manage it.

Heh.

Maybe I can trade on the position of being her companion.

It has to be good for something.

And besides, concentrating on what is up with her stops me thinking about anything else. 

Stops me thinking about this morning.

Stops me thinking about...

Well, I can only imagine that it's going to be keeping me up tonight. 

Time enough to dwell then.

 

It isn't just me who thinks that Kalinda's mood is odd. Ciara takes one look at her, and immediately decides that tonight's meal is going to be *simple*.

No joking around.

No questions.

Just smooth efficiency, distantly overseen by a Kalinda who has absolutely *no* expression on her face.

Which doesn't preclude Ciara asking for my help preparing the meal, nor her having a few quiet words with me when the opportunity presents itself.

"So, how *did* it go in court today?" she asks when she almost drags me into the cold room to retrieve a side of meat for the meal.

"Quite well, all things considered. It's not won yet, but..." I shrug.

She hums for a moment, then purses her lips. "Okay, then. Thanks."

I almost ask her to tell me if she finds anything out, but that would probably be inappropriate.

Inappropriate, and counterproductive. 

Especially if I'm trying to disentangle myself from the mess around Kalinda.

One way or another, this case feels like it's going to be over soon, and I'll be free.

 

The meal is quiet. 

Kalinda doesn't seem to want to talk, and no one else seems inclined to be the first to break the silence.

This doesn't stop enigmatic glances being flashed at me from Kalinda's direction, though.

Have I done something?

Am I transparent enough that she can see how bothered I am by the... Thing I'm deliberately not thinking about?

Why would it *matter* to her?

The air feels thick and greasy with unspoken tension. 

I can't tell if anyone else is feeling it, but to me it almost feels suffocating.

I almost just get up and leave several times during the meal, but that *would* attract attention.

And I may be only human, but I'm not going to lose face like that.

The knock at the door, when it comes, is a relief.

Ciara gets to her feet, and heads off in that direction. She returns, not alone, bearing word of whom it is, but accompanied by a man. He isn't tall - only around my height - and has sandy hair and narrow features.

"Prince Random to see you," she says to Kalinda.

 

"Why are you here?" Kalinda asks as soon as we're ensconced in the study.

By 'we' I mean Kalinda, Random and myself. Even I wouldn't be here, but Kalinda insisted.

"I'm going testify in court tomorrow," he tells her, leaning back against a bookcase.

She goes still. "I see," she says emotionlessly.

"Look, I like you, kid. If were up to me..." he shrugs. "Well, I think this whole business is ridiculous. You may not have handled things in the best way possible, but it's a hell of a lot better than the things the rest of us did when we were young."

"But you're still testifying."

"Corwin called in a marker," he says simply. "Trust me, I'm not happy about this either. I've already had Words from him, the Queen *and* your mother, so I'm quite aware how tightly wedged my balls are in this vice."

"Why are you here then?"

He gives her a patient look. "If I'm going to tell the truth in court tomorrow, I owe you at least this much. I would have told you over Trump instead of trekking out here, but you don't seem to be picking up." He raises an eyebrow curiously.

"I'm avoiding my mother," she says blandly.

He gives a short laugh, then ends it, half looking his shoulder. "Like that, is it?"

She shrugs. "Nothing else?" she asks. "Then you've done your duty."

He winces. "Well, have it your way. I guess I'll see you tomorrow." He turns, makes his way to the door and leaves.

I already know what this means - this had always been an eventuality - so I go to follow him.

I just want to spend the rest of the night alone, trying to spin plans by myself.

Try and figure a way out of this, what his testimony could mean to the case.

Somehow.

But Kalinda catches my arm.

"Stay," she says. I spin around to tell her that I'm *really* not in the mood, not just at the moment, but something in her expression stops me.

Just a trace of softness, eyes glancing off to one side, it's almost... hesitant.

"Please?" she asks me, and I can't refuse her, not like this.

Maybe Random taking sides has affected her more than she'd let on when we had discussed the possibility.

"Thank you," she says quietly. "For today."

I stand there, looking at her, not quite knowing what to say.

Why is she thanking me?

But she isn't finished. After a pause, she continues. "It isn't easy to hear that your country - your adoptive country - does that kind of thing. Takes apart people’s minds. For no good reason. Just *politics*," she almost spits.

I...

I don't know what to think.

She *didn't* know what handing over the spy would mean?

She *didn't* know that she'd be tortured, ripped apart that way?

She really didn't?

A sense of relief so strong that it dizzies me hits me like a wave, and I have to sit down.

I can like her.

I can really like her, and not feel guilty, dirty, because I do.

A giggle rips through me.

"You thought that I was comforting you," I say, in response to the puzzled look she throws me. "I thought you were comforting me," I clarify.

She looks blank for a moment, then a smirk crosses her face.

"A drink then," she says, making her way to the drinks cabinet. "To being there for each other."

I smile almost giddily, relief - despite Random's incipient testimony - being by far my dominant emotion.

It isn't until I'm halfway through my second drink that I parse her words more closely, and my stomach drops like a stone once more.

"You said you wouldn't take apart someone's mind 'for no good reason'," I say carefully.

Any trace of good humour disappears from her expression. She stares into her glass for a moment before asking, "Have you ever been in a war?" Her jaw bunches for a second, before words start flowing again. "A war for survival against vastly superior forces." The river becomes a flood, but still all delivered in the same carefully controlled voice. "Where every analysis says that you should lose, be rolled over, already be dead. Where somehow, using every trick you've ever been taught and a hell of a lot you've never heard of before, you manage to keep eking out victories." She finally looks at me, and her gaze *scalds* me. "Where, because you're succeeding, but you're not the kind of person who *should* be succeeding, your own side turns against you. Where the enemy hollows out your own *father* and turns him into a weapon." She pauses for a moment, takes a breath, then closes her eyes and visibly relaxes. "I've learned that there is very little that I won't do. If it's truly necessary."

Throughout all of this, I've remained frozen, not willing to move, to risk attracting her attention, to remind her of my presence.

But it's these last words, said with burning determination laced with far too much self-disgust that prompts me to rest my hand on her arm, let her know that I'm here.

To try and support her, for the second time today.

She doesn't noticeably react, but she does, finally, continue. "They didn't need to do this. Julian already had everything important, and she was... *aware*."

I don't know how to feel. It's... she's obviously been through so much, and she doesn't let it *show*.

I can't help feeling honoured that she trusts me enough to let me see this much.

And if her ethics still give me an uneasy feeling in my stomach... I'm not sure that I'm in a place where I can judge her.

And certainly not at the moment.

"I wasn't aware that things had gotten so bad here during the war," I say quietly, for want of something else to say. No one else I'd talked to had spoken in so stark terms about it, not even Ciara.

And they certainly hadn't used such terms as 'superior'. 

They had generally contrived to give the impression that the invading horde was comprised of barbarians.

Her mouth twists. "It didn't. Not here. Back home, where I grew up, though... The war sent out ripples, reflections throughout reality. We were hit... badly. And then I came here, and it started all over again."

And, really, after that, there's nothing I can do but hold her.

If there's anything that today has taught me, it's that she's my friend. It wouldn't have been such an ordeal otherwise.

And this is what friends do for each other.


	14. Chapter 14

Today has the air of an ending.

For better or worse, I can't help feeling that the case will be over before this day is through.

From the slight tension radiating from Kalinda as we walk towards the courthouse, I suspect that she's feeling it too.

"I've made arrangements," she says suddenly. "No matter what the verdict, you will get back to your children, and you will be compensated for your work."

A weight lifts off my chest. I can't say that the prospect of what happens if I lose hasn't been a nagging worry in the back of my mind. "Thank you."

She stops and I halt with her. "There is one more favour I'd ask." She turns to look at me, dark eyes glinting in the morning light. "If you'd hear me out."

I think for a moment. I've come to trust her enough to be fairly sure that, whatever it is, she won't force me into anything.

And it can only help me to know my client's wishes.

"Go on," I say.

 

Bran's waiting for us outside the courtroom.

"This is the last chance," he says. "All it will take is a public apology, and the charges will be dropped."

I look towards Kalinda.

She doesn't even bother replying, just shaking her head.

"No," I tell him.

"Are you sure?"

For a moment, I can't help hoping that Kalinda will bend her pride, and just do the easy thing for once.

With Random in play, I'm really not sure whether we can win this case.

But she doesn't even acknowledge that he's said anything, and just enters the door ahead of us.

"We're sure," I tell Bran.

 

"What is your name?"

Random manages to both look like he wishes he were anywhere else apart from here and *still* seem somewhat amused at the proceedings. The pro forma question Bran just asked him hasn't helped the latter impression.

"Prince Random." As if everyone in the courtroom - now even including me - didn't know this already.

Of course 'everyone in the courtroom' is a much more select number than yesterday. Before he brought Random to the stand, Bran requested that anyone non-essential be removed from the courtroom for 'security reasons'. And essential turned out to be Adair, Bran, myself and various members of the Amber royal family.

"Can you explain to the court what the defendant was working on for you?"

He shifts uncomfortably. "Yeah. A lot of the castle magical protections went down during the war. With Oberon dead and the more mystically trained members of the family having buggered off, sorry, *relocated* to Chaos, there hasn't been anyone to repair them. Kalinda offered to have a look and, considering who her mother is, I agreed."

Security reasons indeed. Not that I didn't already know the gist of this, courtesy of Kalinda, but I didn't need to be told what would happen if word of this weakness in Amber's defences spread beyond these walls. 

All three non-family members present would come under grave suspicion.

We might even be interrogated.

Well, I can't think of this now.

"What do these wards do?"

"If they're fully active, potentially a lot of things, from keeping track of power usage to being able to bar or even kill certain classes of being."

"Did the defendant have any success with this work?"

"She'd managed to get the tracking wards online recently. At least partially."

"What do you mean by 'partially'?"

"They're only capable of tracking certain classes of phenomena at the moment."

"Would one of these classes be 'shapeshifters'?"

He grins a little. "That seemed to be her main priority. For some reason," he says dryly.

"Would the infiltrator have been within range of the wards?"

"She lived and worked within the castle, so, yes."

"And was she detected by them?"

"Not according to any display that *I* was able to access."

Oh no. Kalinda had forgotten to mention *this* tiny detail.

"But other shapeshifters did appear."

"Yes, various visiting delegates from Chaos."

"And do you have any reason to believe that the defendant had superior access to what the wards were detecting?"

"Well, she's the person who worked on them. And the timing of the capture - shortly after reactivation - is kinda suggestive."

"So, in your expert opinion, the defendant not only planned the capture of the spy with premeditation, but actually stopped the proper authorities from carrying out their rightful business?"

Kalinda! I think with a fair amount of frustration. This would have been *really* useful to know *ahead* of time.

Clients. Can't work without them, and it isn't legal to shoot them. Even if guns worked in Amber.

"Objection," I say before Random can answer. "Argumentative."

"Sustained," Adair says.

But the damage is already done.

"No further questions," Adair says, sitting down.

This is bad. I'd known that Kalinda had used the wards to locate the spy, and that Random might be able to pin that on her. It's just that Random - firm supporter of the queen, despite his close friendship with Corwin - had previously shown every sign of wanting to keep out of this. Even after last night, I'd still hoped... Well, I'd hoped that he would be less definite.

But actively covering up the presence of the spy?

Oh, *Kalinda*.

Well, I still have the same questions that I had been preparing before, though slightly modified. The spy was a trained infiltrator, concealing her signature. Unlike the delegates. Wasn't it possible that Kalinda had seen a slight anomaly, and gone to check it out before reporting it?

Except it's clear that Random doesn't believe that, and that's going to count against us.

But there's always the hail Mary.

I'd been hesitant about it before - it relies on backing a prince of Amber into a corner, which doesn't strike me as a desperately wise thing to do.

And yet...

I think it's Kalinda's best shot. 

Especially at the moment.

"Did you say that if it was up to you, you wouldn't prosecute the defendant?"

"Objection!" Bran says. "Relevance."

"If I can beg the court's indulgence for a few minutes, I'll demonstrate the relevance."

There's a long pause.

Any trace of Random's good humour has disappeared, and he's eyeing me narrowly.

Like a target.

His right hand is twitching, though he isn't carrying a sword at the moment.

Having heard the tales of the royal family's abilities, and having seen Kalinda in action, I'm not sure it'll make a difference.

Breathe, Alicia, breathe.

One and two and...

"The witness may answer the question," Adair finally says.

The wording does not elude me, and for a moment I wonder if Random is actually going to say anything.

But he does. "Yes."

I try not to let the relief flooding through me show.

I'm not sure how successful I am, but I certainly try.

That's the most dangerous part out of the way.

Which isn't to say the rest is assured just yet.

"What is your position? In addition to that of Prince."

"Captain of the Castle Guard," he says, a glint of amusement returning to his eyes.

"You report directly to the Queen? And not to, say, the Commander of the City Guard?"

"Someone has been doing their homework, haven't they? Yes."

"And the spy worked and lived in the Castle, and she was captured there too?"

This time he doesn't say anything, and just nods.

I turn towards Adair. "I move that the case against my client be dismissed, as the City Guard has no standing to prosecute this case. Not to mention that the Castle Guard, who do, have indicated that they do not wish to press charges."

Adair considers me for another long moment, then brings down his gavel. "I find for the defence in this matter. Unless the Castle Guard wishes to uphold the charges, I have no option but to dismiss them."

Corwin plunges past me towards Random, and begins talking furiously in a low voice.

Random just shakes his head. "Sorry," he says clearly. "You're my brother, and I love you, but you've got to be absolutely insane if you think that I'm sticking my nuts on *this* chopping block."

But my attention is drawn to Kalinda, who has gotten to her feet, eyes glowing with pride, as well as some less defined emotion.

"Would you do me the honour?" she asks.

I drop to one knee.

"In recognition of your services to me on this battlefield, I, Kalinda, Princess of Amber, do knight you and bestow upon you the holding of Twinich." She draws her sword, and rests it once, against each shoulder.

The noise from near the stand halts.

"She can't do that," Corwin says loudly. "The lawyer is a woman, an outlander, and it isn't as though this is a real battlefield!"

"Oh," Kalinda says, looking at Adair levelly. "Is that a fact. How do you rule, your honour?"

There's a pause, but, unlike the prior ones, this one I'm not worried about.

In our research on Adair, we came across some interesting facts.

Adair may have served in the army.

A not inconsiderable amount of his self-image may come from that time, even.

But that's not where his title comes from.

"Princess Kalinda is within her rights, as set by tradition and precedent," Adair says.

No, that came as a reward from King Oberon, for successfully managing to prosecute a case against one of his own sons.

And now that Corwin has made it a matter of whether or not this is a real battlefield, Adair really has no choice.

Kalinda helps me to my feet as Corwin protests again.

"Drinks?" she asks.

 

"I can't believe Kalinda managed to persuade you to take that title," Ciara says.

Everyone's back at the house, celebrating. Even Julian and Bleys have turned up, and are currently occupying Kalinda's attention.

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"She's wanted to have more female gentry, lords in their own right, for some time now." She rolls her eyes. "Just needed an excuse, according to Amber law. She's tried to get me to accept a title several times now 'for my services during the war'." She shrugs, but I can see tension in her shoulders. "I wasn't going having any of it, though."

I'd had... some of that from Kalinda. Though she'd emphasised how much I deserved it a little more, I must admit.

"Then I came along."

"Then you came along," Ciara says, toasting me. "Even better, you're of commoner stock. And an outlander, too." She brings her cup to her lips again, her eyes mocking me gently over the rim, "I can only imagine just how pleased she must have been to have *this* little opportunity."

"You're certainly doing your best to make me feel better about this," I say lightly, drinking deeply from my own wine cup.

"Oh, trust me, it's nothing next to what the other nobles are going to do," Ciara says darkly. "And just let me know when anything happens. I'll enjoy challenging them on your behalf."

"I'll have to give them extra marks if they manage to insult me," I say dryly. "I'm going back to Earth after this, remember? My kids await."

Ciara chokes on yet another mouthful of wine. She coughs for a moment, before grinning at me. "Really?" she asks. "After being made a noble of the realm of Amber, you're going back to some provincial shadow?" She laughs delightedly. "You have *no* idea how much that is going to chap their arses. If only I could see their faces when they get the news."

"So glad I could amuse you."

"I'm going to miss having you around," she says, clapping me on one shoulder. "Sure I can't tempt you with a job?"

"Thanks, but no. Amber may be many things, but it's certainly no place to raise children."

"Well, it's been good knowing you, Alicia Cavanaugh," she says formally, before tilting her head. "Excuse me. I think I hear someone at the door."

Good ears. I can't hear anything over the sound of Bleys demonstrating his (dubious) skill with the lyre. Julian is watching him, one eyebrow raised, whilst Kalinda seems to be arbitrating a 'discussion' between Gerren and Morrian.

As I'm watching her, she glances towards me, and our eyes meet. 

I can't help smiling a little. 

Maybe there are some things about Amber that I'll miss. But she accepted my decision after asking me to stay, once, and I can't help respecting her more for that.

I raise my glass to her, and she does the same to me.

Then there's a tap on my shoulder, and I almost jump out of my skin.

It's Ciara.

I glare at her, and she gives me an apologetic smile. "There's a messenger for you. Apparently the Queen requests your presence."

And then there are the things I won't miss about Amber. I'm still here at the moment, though, and there's no sense antagonising Florimel.

"Lead on," I tell Ciara.

 

Florimel is waiting for me inside the same study in which she received me last time.

"Good evening," she says politely. "I would like to talk to Lady Cavanaugh alone," she says, very obviously to Ciara, who insisted on accompanying me.

Ciara bows, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

"Thank you for attending me at this late hour," she says, returning her attention to me. She rises gracefully to her feet. "May I offer you tea?"

I nod. "Yes, please."

She walks over to a counter, where a steaming pot and two cups are placed.

"Congratulations on your victory today," she says as she pours boiling water into both cups.

"Thank you."

She hands me one cup, before sitting down again. "I understand that you'll be leaving for Earth in the morning."

"Your majesty is well informed," I say.

She smiles, a little wistfully. "I enjoyed my stay on your world. It's a pity I'm not going to have the opportunity to visit any time soon. Especially because it changes so quickly. That's one of its charms, but it does make it a little hard to keep up if one is away for any length of time."

It reminds me that I've been away for over a year, and I can't help wondering what's changed in that time.

"Even staying doesn't always help, as you get older. There were so many things that I'm not sure that I fully got, which my kids didn't seem to have problems with."

"Quite," Florimel says.

There's silence for a moment as we both take a sip from our drinks. It's as delightful as it was last time, but, in addition, I can feel my head clearing from the slight buzz of alcohol.

"Why have you asked to see me?" I ask finally, a little bluntly.

She smiles. "To the point. I'd like to offer you a job, Lady Cavanaugh."

"Thank you, but no. I have children that I need to take care of, and I can't do that if I'm here."

"That would not necessarily be a problem." She eyes me over her cup. "Though a little flexibility might help."

"I'm not sure what you can offer me."

"Do you have a job waiting for you back on Earth?"

Well, no. But... "Kalinda has offered to make sure that my family and I can live comfortably." More than comfortably, even.

"So you're happy being a kept woman?" she asks me shrewdly.

And there it is. Do I really want to go back to a life where I stay in an empty house during the day, waiting with a glass of wine in hand, for the children to come back?

Can I really return to that woman?

Fine.

"What are you suggesting?"

"What this business has made clear to me, above all else, is that we need a source of lawyers in Amber that is not controlled by my brother. Throughout this trial, you've demonstrated impartiality and a willingness to do the best thing for your client, even if that may not be the best thing for you personally."

"Some people would say that doesn't exactly make me smart."

"You won a trial in an unfamiliar court, with the odds stacked against you. I'd say that makes you very smart."

"So what do you actually want me to do? Recruit some lawyers on Earth, have them transported here, and try and run things as best as I can from a different world?"

"Concisely? Yes. I have the resources to enable you to make periodic visits, to make sure everything is in order. And, in a few years, when your children are grown... who knows? Maybe you could take a more full time role here."

"I'm not sure that I'm interested in just being a recruiter, with a side order of long distance boss."

"Well, there's also the fact that I have not inconsiderable holdings on Earth." She smiles calmly. "I'd expect that you'd take care of their legal needs. Also, I wouldn't be surprised if a princess of your acquaintance decided to make some acquisitions of her own. I imagine that she'd appreciate a lawyer she can trust."

The offer's tempting, but... "Can I ask you a few questions?"

"Please. Go ahead."

"Why the trial? Why did you allow it to go ahead?" 

Kalinda, I more or less understood. 

Corwin, I think I got.

But the queen?

If I'm going to work for her, I want to know what kind of games she plays.

"Can I rely on your discretion?" she asks, a glint entering her eyes, reminding me that she *is* the queen, no matter how polite, no matter how gentle she seems.

"Of course."

She purses her lips. "I don't know how much of our family history you know, but we typically settle our grievances in blood. Generally not to the death - at least the deaths of family - but the collateral damage can be... ruinous. But if, hypothetically, I managed to encourage a family member to try and settle things in a court of law..."

That... actually makes a scary amount of sense. "Change has to start somewhere."

"Quite. And the fact that the family member in question happens to be my most ardent critic - so much the better."

Of course, that doesn't explain the writ confining Kalinda to Amber...

Not unless I take into account that, by creating this precedent, and getting her 'most ardent critic' to endorse it, she has created a weapon that she can use again. With Corwin's support even, since he'll have a hard time backing away from it now.

And, likewise, it's not just *other* family members that can use these judicial means now.

It's her as well.

And she's also made the positions of authority within Amber - the positions that she has the power to grant, and the power to strip someone of - more valuable.

Oh.

*Oh.*

She watches me as I digest her words, a gentle smile on her lips. "Of course, your win today did undermine the rule of law a little - a win by nepotism instead of fact."

"That would be more compelling if this trial hadn't only taken place because of an abuse of power," I say, a little dryly.

She tilts her head, conceding the point. "Still. Kalinda did cause me not inconsiderable trouble. Though she's far from the first member of my family to do so, and I highly doubt that she'll be the last."

The reminder gives rise to another question, one that's bothered me more and more ever since I came to Amber.

"If you don't mind me asking, and forgive me if this seems impertinent, how did you manage to become queen? From everything I've seen, Amber doesn't seem welcoming to a female ruler."

She contemplates me for a moment over the rim of her cup before answering. "During the recent war, as a result of things that I'm not going to go into, a wave of power came surging towards us while most of the family were away fighting in Chaos. It would have destroyed us utterly if I and my two surviving sisters had not joined together in a ritual to avert it. Afterwards, well, power has a way of writing its own rules. Between the three of us, it was decided," a smile, hinting at some secret joke, "That I would become queen of Amber. My brothers were not in a position to refuse us. And shortly thereafter, by decree of the Serpent - the goddess of Chaos - Fiona was made Empress of Chaos."

"And your third sister?"

"Llewella?" Again, that smile. "She's always been fond of doing her own thing."

Which isn't an answer, but is probably as much of one as I'm going to get,

"So," Florimel says. "Have you considered my offer?"

I close my eyes to think, to try and make a decision.

And, to my surprise, I have already made one.

"Yes," I tell her. 

This place, these people, no matter how crazy, have already sunk their roots into me, and I find myself unwilling to let them go just yet.

"I accept."

And, through the sudden excitement, the nervousness, the anticipation, I can't help my thoughts turning to one particular question. 

I wonder what Kalinda is going to think of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Lawyers, Swords and Secrets. I was originally going to write all three cases under this title, but I also originally thought that each case was going to be 12-20k words long. And we can see how well that turned out.
> 
> I may well add another chapter of interlude material onto this, bur I can't promise that at the moment. There's also likely to be a short gap before I start working on the next part, because sweetjamielee's The Good Wife ficathon starts next week, and I'll hopefully be taking prompts from there.
> 
> To everyone who stuck this out, thank you!


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